The Neveragaine
by Helena L
Summary: Ada Ventura just wants to get back to her homeland of Cyrodiil, but a series of bizarre events conspire to force her down the path of the Nerevarine. She can't really be the reincarnation of a legendary Dunmer hero... can she?
1. Chapter 1: I Don't Want To Go To Morrowi

A/N: My first ever Elder Scrolls story! After playing Morrowind for the first time a couple of months ago (several years _after_ Oblivion, believe it or not), I was inspired to write my own version of the Nerevarine's tale. How long it'll take to finish, I have no idea... but I'll try to keep updates as regular as possible, at least. So, here you have it: the adventures of Ada, Imperial outcast and very, _very_ reluctant Nerevarine.

* * *

**Chapter 1: I Don't Want To Go To Morrowind**

It was a _weird_ dream, I tell you that. I mean, I've had some strange dreams before, but this one was truly bizarre. Images flashed across my mind in a never-ending reel: fire, storms, a barren landscape, water droplets splashing into a pond... and scrolls covered in Daedric writing, which I don't even understand. I must have eaten some really bad food the night before.

A woman's voice was speaking. "_They have taken you from the Imperial City's prison, first by carriage, and now by boat. To the East, to Morrowind._"

"Morrowind?" I squeaked. "I don't want to go to Morrowind!"

"_Fear not_," she reassured me. "_For I am watchful. You have been chosen._"

"Chosen for _what_?" I asked plaintively. "And does it really have to be Morrowind? I mean, how about Valenwood? I always wanted to go to Valenwood."

I have no idea why I thought I could reason with the mysterious dream-lady, but I guess you don't tend to think all that rationally when you're dreaming. It didn't matter in any case, because at that very moment I was woken up by someone roughly shaking my shoulder.

"Wake up!" It was a hoarse, throaty voice, suggestive of a bad cold. "Wake up! We're here."

I opened my eyes to see a male figure, naked from the waist up, staring down at me. He had grey-green skin, red eyes, and huge, sharply-pointed ears – each studded with several earrings – not to mention a vicious-looking scar running down one side of his face. A Dunmer, I thought. Well, that explained the scratchy voice.

He looked concerned. "Why are you shaking? Are you okay?"

"I… guess," I said weakly, trying to sit up. The back of my head hurt; I must have banged it against a packing crate. "Er… bad dreams."

He nodded. "Yes, you were dreaming. What's your name?"

"Um… Ada. Ada Ventura." I was still half-asleep, my head full of sandstorms and creepy disembodied voices, but I vaguely remembered my companion telling one of the guards that his name was Jiub.

"Even last night's storm couldn't wake you." He leaned a little closer as I swung my legs off the makeshift bunk, rubbing my eyes. "I heard them say we've reached Morrowind. I'm sure they'll let us go."

My head jerked up. "Morrowind? I don't want to go to Morrowind!"

"I know," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You were saying."

It was all right for _him_, I thought resentfully. He was a Dark Elf; Morrowind was his home. For me, it was different.

It's not that I have a problem with Dark Elves in general. I'd got on fine with the more cosmopolitan Dunmer I'd met in Cyrodiil, but if there was one thing they'd all made clear to me, it was that Morrowind really didn't welcome foreign visitors. Or, as one particularly gloomy fellow summed it up: "We don't like outlanders." 'Outlanders' it transpired, meant anyone born and raised outside of Morrowind – even other Dunmer. In fact, especially other Dunmer.

Why was I being sent to Morrowind, of all places? It wasn't Imperial policy to deport convicts to the provinces, as far as I knew. Maybe the jails were getting too full?

Footsteps creaked on the ramp leading to the middle deck, and Jiub hastily drew back. "Quiet! Here comes the guard."

I heard the jangle of keys as the guard, a fellow Imperial, strolled towards us. He gave me a curt nod as he approached, ignoring Jiub completely. "This is where you get off. Come with me."

I hauled myself to my feet and obediently followed, wishing my legs didn't ache so much. Several days cooped up a creaky old carriage, followed by the hold of a prison ship, had left me with a rather severe cramp. I couldn't wait to get out of here and stretch my legs properly for the first time in days.

They hadn't actually treated me that badly in the prison. I'd had adequate food and exercise, and I hadn't been beaten or ill-treated (though the third time I tried to escape, the long-suffering guard captain told me that if it ever happened again, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions). They'd even given me paper and a quill when I begged hard enough, probably hoping that it would keep me out of trouble. I'd used it to start a journal, which was pretty much the only thing that had kept me sane during my long stay in that tiny, windowless cell.

I clutched it against me as we entered the middle deck, praying that it wouldn't be taken away. Okay, so it contained absolutely nothing of interest (I'd been in _prison_, for crying out loud), but it was almost the only possession I had, apart from the ratty old clothes I stood up in and a few small trinkets. Luckily, the guard didn't even seem to notice.

Over by the next set of steps, he turned to me and fixed me with his best "you're a disgrace to my people" glare. I scowled back at him. "I'm innocent, you know."

"They all are," he said with a sigh. "Now, get yourself up on deck, and let's keep this as civil as possible."

I couldn't _wait_ to get up on deck. I practically ran at the trapdoor, shoved it open, and drank in huge gulps of fresh, salty air, blinking in the early morning sunlight. Hauling myself up on to the deck, I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared to look on my new home of Morrowind for the first time ever.

I drew another deep, heady breath, and opened my eyes. And stared.

From the descriptions my Dunmer friends had given me, I had somehow envisioned Morrowind as an endless wasteland of rocks, lava valleys, and ash storms. But the landscape that stretched out before me was lush and green, with gentle waves lapping against a grassy shore. A village of quaint little huts surrounded the docks, and off in the distance I could see some kind of tower – a lighthouse, probably – surrounded by tall plane trees. It was, to my amazement, quite beautiful.

The soldier standing beside me, a Redguard, grinned at the look on my face. "This is where they want you. Head down to the dock and they'll show you to the Census Office." He sounded a lot more friendly than the other guards on the ship.

I stumbled down the gangplank to be met by another guard, this one in full Imperial uniform. "You finally arrived!" he exclaimed, as if he'd been waiting all his life for this moment. "But our records don't show from where."

I gathered my thoughts. "Er, Ada Ventura, of Imperial City. Temple District," I added, in case it was important. Though in actual fact, I'd barely set foot in the Temple District in several years.

"Great! I'm sure you'll fit right in." Wow, this guy was almost scarily friendly. "Follow me up to the office, and they'll finish your release."

I entered the census office, where I was met by an elderly-looking man who I presumed to be a clerk. "Ah yes," he said briskly, "we've been expecting you. You'll have to be officially recorded before you're released. Now, just a few formalities…" He took up a sheaf of papers from his desk. "Your class, please?"

"My… class?" I repeated, slightly confused. "You mean my trade? Well… I don't really _have_ one as such." The truth was, I'd never really studied for a trade. I'd just travelled around, learning whatever I thought was useful.

He sighed, and shoved the papers into my hands. "Here. Fill in the forms yourself."

I sat down at the desk and began to note down everything I could think of that I was any good at. It was a bit of a mixed bag; while most of my skills were combat-related (blades, light and heavy armour, armour repair), I'd also learned to pick locks and disarm traps (useful in a tight spot) and to bargain for a good deal with merchants. Magic was a different matter; to be honest, I'd never really had much of a talent for it. The only discipline I'd studied in any detail was Restoration, and even then, all I could remember after five years was a single healing spell which I couldn't even cast properly half the time.

"Here," I said at last, handing him back the forms. I couldn't really think of a good name for my lack-of-profession, so in the end I'd just put 'mercenary', which was pretty much accurate.

"Very good. Now, the letter which preceded you mentioned that you were born under a certain sign… which would be?"

Was this _really_ necessary? I suppressed a sigh. "The Lady. Twenty-first of Heartfire, 3E 404."

"_Interesting_," he murmured. "Now, just make sure this information is correct before I stamp the papers…"

I checked through the information, noting the date on the papers as I did so: 16th of Last Seed. I'd been in prison for over a year.

Once I'd finished, the clerk stamped the papers with the Imperial seal, and it seemed that I was good to go. "Show your papers to the Captain when you go to get your release fee," he said with a smile.

I walked out into a small hallway, which contained a bookcase and a table with a half-finished meal on it. My stomach rumbled at the sight of the bread and meat – they'd only given us one meal a day on board the ship – but I didn't want to take anything in case someone caught me. The last thing I needed was to be thrown _back_ in jail for stealing on my first day of freedom.

The door at the end of the hallway led me out through an enclosed courtyard and into another office, where a man in a gleaming suit of Imperial Templar armour was sitting at a desk. This, I presumed, was the Captain I was supposed to report to.

"Er… Captain?" I said, holding out the papers. "I'm Ada, the prisoner who was just released. I was told to give these to you."

"Ah, yes. Word of your arrival only reached me yesterday." He looked slightly harassed. "Still, no matter. I'm Sellus Gravius, and I'm here to welcome you to Morrowind."

"Pleased to meet you." I wasn't sure what else to say.

"I don't know why you're here," he continued. "Or why you were released from prison and shipped here. But your authorization comes directly from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself."

I stared at him, wondering if I'd heard correctly. "What?"

"From the Emperor," he repeated.

"The… Emperor?"

"Yes, the Emperor. Uriel Septim is still Emperor." He gave me a rather strange look. "You _do_ remember that, don't you?"

Well, naturally I did. Uriel Septim had been Emperor several decades longer than I'd been alive. "Of course I do," I snapped, then realised that it probably wasn't a good idea to piss off the guy in charge of my release. "But… why?"

"Damned if I know," he said bluntly. "But that's the way the Empire works. Silence. Secrecy. Let not the left hand know what the right hand is doing."

I nodded slowly, still unable to take in what I'd just heard. Why the heck would the Emperor be personally ordering my release? He didn't concern himself with people like me. Maybe there'd been a mistake, and the guy who was _really_ supposed to be released had been dragged off to a salt mine somewhere.

"Anyway," Gravius continued, "this package came with news of your arrival." He handed me a small package. "You are to take it to Caius Cosades, in the town of Balmora. I also have a letter for you, and a disbursal to your name."

He handed over an official-looking document and an oilskin pouch containing a handful of gold coins – just under a hundred septims' worth, in my estimation. Suddenly I felt a lot more kindly disposed towards him. I was still thoroughly confused, but I certainly wasn't about to turn down some desperately-needed cash.

"Right," I said, pulling myself together. "Just let me write this down… where can I find this Cosades guy, by the way?"

"Take the silt strider to Balmora, then go to the South Wall Cornerclub and ask for Caius Cosades. They'll know where to find him." He fixed me with a stern glare. "Serve him as you would serve the Emperor himself."

I nodded and scribbled down the instructions in my journal, wondering what exactly a 'silt strider' could be. "Okay, thanks. I'll do my best."

"Goodbye," he said with a faint smile, "and good luck."

I hesitated for a moment before the door leading out into the village, then pushed it open. Bright sunlight streamed into the room, and I felt a sudden giddy rush of joy. Freedom! OK, so I was alone, friendless and nearly penniless in a foreign country with nowhere to stay and no possessions, but still… freedom! Freeeeeedom!

I looked around me, still struggling to adjust to the bright light after all those months in a dingy cell. Rather to my surprise, the first person I saw was not a Dunmer but a Bosmer – a Wood Elf, as we call them back West. Wood Elves aren't my favourite people in general, but right now I was so happy to be free that I could almost have hugged him. I settled for a nod and a cheery "Good morning!"

"Greetings, Cyrodiil!" he said, in that high, squeaky voice that grates on your nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. "Welcome to Sedya Neen! Are you the one the boat dropped off? Hope the Imperials treated you okay. I swear they took my ring."

"Your ring?" I said, confused.

"I swear one of the Guards has it. I had it last week before their weekly 'Let's shake down Fargoth' ritual." Fargoth, I gathered, was his name. "An engraved healing ring, family heirloom of mine. You haven't seen it, have you?"

"No," I said. His face fell. "But I could look for it if you like," I added, yielding to a generous impulse.

"Oh, thank you!" he exclaimed, brightening up. "Of course, you're an Imperial, they won't suspect you."

I wasn't quite so sure about that, but I turned around and headed back into the office I'd just left. The Captain, still writing at his desk, seemed more than a little surprised to see me back so soon. "Can I help you, citizen?" he asked, with a slight frown.

"Hi there," I said, trying to sound casual. "I seem to have dropped my, er… comb… somewhere in here. I don't suppose you've seen it, have you?"

He gave me another of those slightly bemused looks. "No, I haven't seen it."

"Okay, never mind. I'll just have a quick look for it, then," I said, and slipped through the other door before he could ask any more questions.

I returned to the census office where the clerk had taken my details, and had a quick hunt around for Fargoth's ring. No one interrupted me to ask what I was doing, but it made no difference, as the ring was nowhere to be found. I even checked the cellar downstairs, but all I found were a few barrels of provisions, none of which looked particularly appetising.

Heading back into the courtyard, I was on the point of giving up when I noticed an ordinary-looking barrel standing close to the door. On impulse, I lifted the lid and peered at the contents. It appeared to function as a refuse bin, and was full of rotten food and broken crockery, but I could see something glinting near the bottom.

I reached into the barrel and pulled out… an engraved ring, enchanted with a minor healing spell. Success!

Damn, and it was a _nice_ ring, as well. I could have done with a ring like that, especially in my current situation. I have to admit, I was sorely tempted to keep it for myself and tell Fargoth that I couldn't find it.

I went back into the office, where the Captain was waiting. "Found it!" I said cheerfully, holding up my comb (which of course I'd had all along). "I'd just dropped it out there in the yard. Anyway, best be going."

Fargoth greeted me excitedly as I left the office. "Have you looked for my ring, outlander? Did you find it?"

I looked into his eager little face, and I just couldn't bring myself to lie to him. Besides, whatever else I might have done, I wasn't a thief. "Yes, I found it," I said, suppressing a sigh. "Here it is."

"Oh, _thank_ you!" he gasped, and before I could react he had flung his arms around me. "Thank you, thank you! You are now my favourite friend!"

"Er, no problem," I said, a little overwhelmed by this display of gratitude. "I'm Ada, by the way."

"_Ada_," he repeated. "I'll remember that. I'll be sure to tell everyone, especially my friend Arrille who runs the tradehouse here. Go see him, he'll be happy to see you now!"

He scampered off, leaving me feeling slightly stunned. Oh well, if he put in a good word for me with the local trader, that couldn't hurt.

Right, I thought, time to get some food. And before I went anywhere at all, I needed a weapon and some proper armour. Caius Cosades and his packages could wait.

I took the opportunity to observe Sedya Neen more closely as I walked up to the tradehouse. It was a tiny settlement, more a hamlet than a village, set in what appeared to be the middle of a swamp. Apart from the census office, the tradehouse, and another warehouse of some kind, there didn't appear to be any buildings of interest.

The population was a mixed bag, which I suppose is unsurprising for a port settlement. Besides the Dunmer and Imperial guards, there were several other humans around the place, and I even spotted a High Elf woman emerging from one of the houses. Several Dark Elf citizens nodded to me as I passed, showing none of the hostility that the Morrowind Dunmer were supposedly famous for. "Good day to you, Cyrodiil."

I was a little surprised to be so quickly recognised as Imperial, as I don't really look like a typical Cyrodiil. Women of my race tend towards the short, dark and curvy, whereas I'm above average height, with a build that can only be described as 'wiry'. My skin is pale, with a tendency to burn when I stay out in the sun too long, and my hair a colour that I like to call 'bright copper' and everyone else describes as 'ginger'. Fellow Imperials often ask if I have Nord blood in me – but I guess that to the Dunmer, our distinguishing features must be as obvious as their ash-grey skin and red eyes are to us.

The trader Arrille, another High Elf, looked me over critically as I entered the inn. I felt the back of my neck itch slightly. I've always had a slight inferiority complex around Altmer – deliberately or not, they somehow invariably manage to give the impression that they're looking down on you. (It doesn't help that they literally _are_, as most of them stand six inches taller than your average human.)

"Ah, you must be Fargoth's friend!" he exclaimed, as I approached. "Welcome to Arrille's Tradehouse. I'm Arille, publican and proprietor. Would you like to hear about our most popular potions, or our most popular scrolls?"

I leaned over the counter. "Do you have any… weapons?"

I bought an iron longsword and shield at a cost of around seventy drakes (the local term for what we call 'septims', apparently), regretfully passing over a rather snazzy green robe. Yes, I admit it: I love fine clothes. I wear armour most of the time, but if it didn't get in the way of fighting, I'd quite happily run around dressed in silks and satins as the mages do. (No need for practical clothing when you can just blast enemies with a fireball spell from twenty feet.)

After that, I bought a map and a cheap meal and headed upstairs to the bar to eat. By this time I was so hungry that I could quite happily have wolfed down three breakfasts at once, but unfortunately I was already getting low on money. I'd have to make some more somehow or I'd end up being stuck in this place for ever.

The dark-skinned woman behind the bar gave me a friendly smile, which I returned. I rather like Redguards; they're skilled fighters and they know how to have a good time, with none of the snottiness of elves or Bretons. (So do Nords, come to that – just make sure you never try to outdrink one.)

"Hello there," she said, as I sat down at the bar with my plate of food. "You're new here, aren't you? I'm Elone the Scout. If you need any directions, just ask."

"Thanks." We shook hands. "I'm Ada Ventura, of Imperial City. Maybe you could tell me how to get to Balmora?"

She wrote down some directions and marked various places of interest on my map, while I settled down to my meal of bread and crab meat. Sedya Neen was on the south-west coast of Vvardenfell, the large island that made up the bulk of northern Morrowind. Balmora was a medium-sized town to the north, though apparently quite a long walk away. "You'd be better off taking the silt strider," she advised me.

"This may sound like a stupid question," I said, "but… what exactly _is_ a silt strider?"

She grinned. "Silt striders are giant insects. A compartment for passengers and cargo is hollowed from the shell, and the driver directs it by manipulating exposed organs and tissues. Pretty clever, don't you think?"

Wow. Back in Cyrodiil, we just use horses.

"So what brings you to Morrowind, Ada?" she asked eventually. "We don't see a lot of Imperial tourists here."

"I'm not a tourist."

"Business, then?" She looked surprised; it was clear from my outfit that I wasn't wealthy.

"No." I lowered my voice. "As a matter of fact, I… was just released from prison."

Elone's eyes widened. "Really? What did – " She checked herself quickly. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

"No, that's OK." I felt a sudden urge to confide in someone, anyone. "You see, it was like this…"

*****

If I had only listened to my parents, none of this would ever have happened. Not my _real_ parents, of course – I never knew my birth family, as they were kind enough to dump me in a basket outside the Temple of the One on the day I was born. To this day I have no idea who they were, or why they abandoned me. Supposedly I'd been wrapped in good linen, which suggested that they were well-off, but other than that there was nothing I could use to identify them.

I was taken in by a kindly local couple, Marcus and Sybilla Ventura, who raised me as their own child for eighteen years (though I called them 'Aunt' and 'Uncle'). I won't pretend they weren't good to me; they brought me up well, bought me fine clothes and jewellery to wear, and pretended for as long as they could that I was going to turn out a beauty. The only thing they asked for in return was a dutiful daughter – which I unfortunately wasn't.

It wasn't that they were blinkered enough to deny me a trade, but their idea of a suitable trade didn't exactly mesh with mine. They'd have preferred me to marry some rich merchant and settle down to the normal Imperial pursuits, namely: making money, making more money, hoarding it all up into a nice little pile, and then using it to make _even more_ money. But I had other ideas: from the day I first visited the Arena, at the tender age of eight, I had known that I wanted to be a fighter. It was to lead to many, many bitter arguments between me and my family.

"I wouldn't have minded the _Legion_," Aunt Sybilla had sniffled, after one of these fights. "At least that's a respectable profession. But what kind of trade is 'wandering adventurer'? Messing around in horrible dirty caves and brawling in low taverns."

I'd laughed at the time, but it was one of those 'low taverns' that had done for me in the end. I'd only stopped there for the night on my way to a job in Cheydinhal, near the border with Morrowind. The mead there was cheap, but powerful – the kind that doubles your strength at the expense of shutting down half your brain cells – and, fatally, I'd ended up drinking a few glasses too many.

It was all his fault, really. He shouldn't have tried to cop a feel, and he _certainly_ shouldn't have called me that name when I shoved him away and told him to get lost. Besides, he was twice my size; how could I have guessed that my first punch would knock him out, or that he'd smash his head against the stone fireplace as he fell? I really, _really_ didn't mean to kill him.

There were plenty of witnesses to testify that it had been an accident – I'd even drunkenly tried to use a healing potion on him as he died – and I might have got away with a lighter sentence, had it not been for the guy's family. He turned out to be the son of a noble family, one of those spoiled brats who like to show how 'hard' they are by visiting rough taverns and slumming it with the locals. His parents were hell-bent on charging me with murder, and they'd demanded blood money of five thousand septims – far more than I could possibly afford. I was far too ashamed to ask my adoptive family for help, and in any case, I'd hardly spoken to them since I left home nearly four years earlier.

So I went to prison, just under a month before my twenty-second birthday, with no clear prospect of release and my career (such as it was) in ruins. I'd been there ever since, rotting in a cell, only half a mile away from the fashionable district where I'd grown up.

*****

I didn't give Elone the whole sob story, of course. I just told her that I'd been imprisoned for murder after accidentally killing a guy in a fight. She seemed sympathetic.

"Well, time to make a fresh start, huh?" she suggested. "Wipe the slate clean. Make a new life for yourself here in Morrowind."

"Hmph." I wasn't too sure about that.

I finished off my meal, while Elone filled me in on the latest gossip. Apparently the local tax collector, Processus Vitellius, had gone missing. "Can't say I'm surprised," she said with a wink. "He wasn't very popular around here."

I wondered if there had ever been a tax collector in the entire history of the world who was actually popular with the locals. If so, he had to be some kind of saint.

As I left the bar, I was accosted by an off-duty Legionnaire at the top of the stairs. He was a typical Nord, big and beefy, with braided flaxen hair and a heavy beard. "Ho there, outlander!" His voice was slightly slurred, and I could smell alcohol on his breath – not a good sign at this time in the morning.

"Yes?" I said warily, keeping my hand on the hilt of my sword.

He leaned towards me. "You look like you could use a friend. Perhaps I could be your friend… if you help me recover some gold."

"Go on."

"You see, I've had a run of bad luck," he confessed. "Lost a bit of money playing Nine-holes. Normally, I'd be fine, what with the money the locals pay us for… protection, but –"

"Protection," I said drily. "Right."

"But I know some of them are holding out on me," he went on. "That little fetcher Fargoth, for example. He's come up light the last few times I've shaken him down. And I've been through his whole house, so I know it's not there."

I couldn't help feeling sorry for Fargoth. The Bosmer are basically the racial equivalent of those scrawny kids who keep getting beaten up for their lunch money.

"So what do you want me to do?" I asked.

He motioned for me to come closer, and spoke in a low voice. "Find out where he's stashing his gold. If you do it for me, I'll give you a share of the wealth. You up for it?"

I was about to tell him to go and do his own dirty work, when I suddenly remembered how very short of money I was. I had only around fifteen septims left, which would barely be enough to pay for the silt strider, let alone any more meals (and food was pretty high on my list of priorities right now). Maybe this was not the best time to be a stickler for high moral principles.

"Maybe," I mumbled. "So how would we share this wealth, exactly?"

He sighed. "I'll give you a third of the gold, and you can keep any other loot you find. Deal?"

"All right," I said reluctantly. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just wait until nightfall and then watch where he goes. The top of the lighthouse is a good vantage point – gives you a nice view of all Sedya Neen. Figure out where he goes and then bring the loot back to me, okay?"

It wasn't _really_ stealing, I told myself as I left the tradehouse. This was a Legion soldier, after all. No doubt he was collecting that money for entirely legitimate purposes of… protection. Absolutely.

Anyway, once I had some more money, it would be time to start figuring out a way to get home. Okay, so Morrowind might not be quite as bad as I had expected – but whatever Elone said, there was no way I would consider actually living here for any length of time. I was a Cyrodiil born and bred, and I belonged there.

I knew that my Uncle Marcus, a silk merchant, traded goods through the East Empire Company in the port of Ebonheart. Maybe I could find a ship there that would take me to the mainland? It would be expensive, no doubt, but perhaps I could find someone who knew my uncle – or perhaps even stow away on board a ship. There _had_ to be some way out of this place.

I definitely did not plan to stay in Morrowind.


	2. Chapter 2: Seeing the Sights

A/N: Happy New Year everyone! Hope you all had a good Christmas. I forgot to thank my friend Eli for beta-reading this fic for me in the last chapter, so I'll do it here instead.

In response to some comments: I'm well aware that not everyone reading this will be familiar with the Elder Scrolls games, and I've tried to take account of that in my writing. Unfortunately, there's only so much I can do without making Ada's internal monologue sound downright bizarre, like a modern person describing cars or telephones. However, I'm open to any suggestions for improvement.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Seeing The Sights**

Just outside the tradehouse I met an Imperial man in his early forties. It was great to see someone else of my own race – apart from the guards, of course – and I greeted him warmly. "Hi there."

"Hello, sister," he said, smiling. "Are you new here? You'll be wanting to take the silt strider to get out of this place."

"Where can I find it?"

He gestured towards a steep incline on the eastern bank of the river which surrounded the village. "Just at the top of the hill there. Tell the caravaner that Vodunius Nuccius sent you."

I stared in amazement when I first saw the silt strider. It was a massive insect, at least twenty feet high, with legs as thick as tree trunks – like a ground beetle blown up to gigantic proportions by some kind of magical accident. The hollowed-out body, where the passengers rode, could only be reached from the top of the hill that Vodunius had indicated.

The caravaner told me that she made a round trip to Balmora twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. Since I'd agreed to spy on Fargoth that evening, I'd have to spend the night in Sedya Neen.

In the meantime, I decided to make the most of my time here and explore a little. There wasn't much to see, with the scenery mainly consisting of swamp, swamp and more swamp, but a few hundred yards from the village I came across a small wooden door in a cliff face. How nice, I thought. A little cave.

I did hesitate briefly before entering, but there was nothing to indicate that it was private or off limits in any way. I assumed that the door had been put there for the benefit of the occasional tourist who came through Sedya Neen – after all, it wasn't as if the place had many other attractions to offer. It swung open easily on my touch, and I entered the cave through the narrow doorway.

The cave was small and dark, lit only by a few torches and a wood fire in the centre. At the far side I could see another wooden gate, which presumably led further into a system of caverns. I stood on a rocky ledge a couple of feet above the ground; on the floor below, next to an overturned boat, a Dunmer woman in sailor's clothing sat warming herself by the fire.

The moment she saw me she leapt to her feet, her face contorted with fury. "You _n'wah_!"

"Er… sorry," I murmured, backing away slightly. "Am I trespassing? I didn't realise – "

I swear to Akatosh, she just rushed straight at me. No warning, not even a "surrender or die!", just a rusty-looking iron dagger straight in my face. If she hadn't had to run up to the ledge to reach me, I wouldn't even have had time to reach for my sword. It was only by some miracle that I managed to block her first couple of blows with my shield.

I've no idea why she thought it was a good idea to attack a swordswoman with a dagger – maybe she thought the element of surprise would be enough to give her the edge. As it was, instinct kicked in and I lashed out with my blade, cutting deeply into her arm and causing her to drop the knife with a howl of pain. The blow knocked her off balance and she fell backwards off the ledge, striking her head against a jutting-out rock with a sickening and all-too-familiar crack.

I jumped down from the ledge and ran over to the gate, which opened onto a flight of steps leading down into the cave. Somewhere below I could hear alarmed voices echoing through the cavern. _More_ of them?

Footsteps clattered up the stairs and I had the presence of mind to throw myself into the hollow behind the wooden doorframe, just seconds before another Dunmer rushed through the gate. He wore only a robe, with no armour or weapons visible, and I heard him mutter some kind of protection spell as he entered. Uh-oh, a mage. This was not good.

I'd fought mages before, of course, mainly necromancers. (Necromancy isn't technically banned in Cyrodiil – though the Mages' Guild has been arguing about it for years – but they tend to get _really_ shirty when you interrupt them in the middle of their foul rituals.) But I'd always been careful to wear armour with the appropriate enchantments, or simply snipe them from a distance with a bow and arrow – and neither of those things were available right now. Any second now the guy was going to turn around and see me, and when he did, I was dead.

There was no time to think. As the mage bent over the body of his fallen companion, I sprang out of my hiding-place and rushed at him with sword raised. He whirled round, starting to mouth the words to a spell, and I slashed him a heavy blow across the neck. He collapsed to his knees, gasping and clutching at his throat.

Something very sharp struck my left shoulder, and I turned to see yet another Dunmer woman in standing in the doorway, a gleam of metal glinting in her upraised hand. _Throwing stars_? I deflected the next one with my shield and rushed straight at her, shoving her backwards with all my strength. She shrieked, stumbled backwards, lost her footing and tumbled headlong down the steep flight of steps just behind the gate, coming to rest in a crumpled heap at the bottom.

I glanced around frantically, clutching my injured shoulder, but no further attackers appeared. The two other Dunmer were lying motionless on the floor, still twitching slightly, but clearly either dying or already dead. A sudden heavy silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the fire and my ragged breathing.

With my heart still thumping like a hammer, I crept down the steps to the bottom of the cave, fully expecting to be jumped by more crazed Dunmer at any moment. The sound of a rat squeaking somewhere in the distance nearly gave me a heart attack. At the foot of the stairs I bent over the second woman's body to check her pulse, but I could tell just by looking at her that she was dead.

I drew a long, deep, shaky breath, trying to get a grip on myself. What the _hell_ was going on here? Why had these people attacked me on sight without the slightest provocation? The only people I knew who acted like that were necromancers, but these guys clearly weren't necromancers – not enough stylish black robes and fancy skull-and-pentagram decorations, for a start. And just what the heck was an _n'wah_?

The feeling of something wet trickling down the side of my arm reminded me that I'd been wounded. I craned my neck to see the cut on my shoulder – it didn't look very deep, but it was bleeding quite heavily, and once the shock wore off it would probably hurt like hell. I really ought to fix it before it got infected or something.

I tried to cast a healing spell, but I was still breathless and shaking, and I stumbled over the Daedric words. The problem with spells is that if you don't say them _exactly_ right, while gesturing in _exactly_ the right way and focussing the magical energies at _precisely_ the right moment, they just don't work. A second unsuccessful attempt left me with too little magicka for a third try – meaning that I'd have to waste money on a healing potion later on. I sighed, and looked around for something to bandage up the wound.

The cave had clearly been used as a base by these people – whoever they were – for quite a while. Flickering torchlight illuminated a wooden platform stacked with crates and barrels, by the side of a large pool in the floor of the cave. On one of the crates was a small key, which I took, and – oh, joy! – a pile of clean clothes, probably belonging to one of the female Dark Elves. I wound one of the shirts around my shoulder as a bandage, and tucked the rest under my arm for later.

Further into the cave I could see more piles of crates, neatly stacked. Just what was this place being used for? I cautiously prised open the lid of the nearest crate, to find it stuffed with packets of what looked like moon sugar. Another one contained about a dozen small, opaque bottles, each of the exact same size and shape.

Carefully pulling the stopper out of one bottle, I was almost knocked backwards by the powerful stench of skooma. Ah, so_ that_ was what was going on here – smuggling! No wonder those Dunmer had reacted so badly to my innocently stumbling on their little hideout.

I used a sack and some string to put together a makeshift pack, and began to search the crates for anything which I could use to barter. The skooma would have fetched a good price with anyone who was willing to deal in that sort of thing, but I wasn't touching it. I didn't know what the penalty was for possession of the stuff here in Morrowind, and I _really_ didn't want to find out.

I caught sight of my reflection in the still water of the pool as I knelt down by one of the crates, and it wasn't a pretty sight. My face was streaked with grime, my skin looked even pastier than usual after months of sunlight-deprivation, and my hair was a rat's nest. Gods, even in prison I'd managed to keep myself cleaner and tidier than this. My comb was one of the very few possessions they'd allowed me to keep, after I'd pleaded with the guard captain (yeah, I know it's pathetic, but I can't help it. I'm an Imperial; it's in the blood.)

Having gathered up anything which I thought might fetch a few coins, I made my way up the stairs to the cave opening. Just as I was about to leave I heard footsteps and a faint cough, somewhere up above me. I spun round, sword at the ready, but all I saw was a wooden gate at the top of another flight of steps.

Very, very cautiously, I crept up the stairs – shield held out in front of me to deflect any attacks – and peered through the slats of the gate. It was padlocked, and inside I could see three figures: two Argonians, a male and a female, and a Khajiit. They looked painfully thin, and the Khajiit's fur was dirty and matted. Prisoners?

I fumbled for the key which I'd picked up earlier and tried it in the gate; it turned easily. The prisoners cowered back a little as I pushed open the gate; poor things, they clearly hadn't been treated well by their captors. We stared at each other in silence for a couple of seconds, until finally one of the Argonians hissed "Misstresss?"

"It's okay," I said quickly, anxious to reassure them. "I've killed all the smugglers. You're free to go."

The prisoners exchanged glances, but none of them moved. Finally the Khajiit spoke up: "You must unlock these bracers to free us, good friend."

I stared at the iron bracers on his outstretched wrists. They had a faint shimmer around them indicating some kind of enchantment – I couldn't tell what kind without examining them more closely. For a moment I wondered what could possibly be going on here, and then suddenly it hit me.

They were slaves.

…Slavery was _legal_ in Morrowind, wasn't it?

I'd had plenty of heated debates about slavery with the Dunmer I'd met in the past (generally over several glasses of ale), but we'd always ended by politely agreeing to disagree. But that had been back in Cyrodiil, where the question was entirely academic in any case. Now that I was here in Morrowind, I was going to come across slaves and slave owners all the time… which meant I would either have to stand by and watch it happen, or do something about it. And if I chose the second option, _I_ was the one breaking the law.

I wish I could say that I immediately brushed off all other concerns in favour of Doing The Right Thing, but I didn't. Instead, I hesitated, wondering if I could really afford to risk going back to jail again. The three slaves stared back at me with mournful eyes, waiting.

Oh, sod it. I couldn't just leave them here to starve, could I? Besides, who could object to me freeing slaves from smugglers?

I tried the gate key on one of the Khajiit's wrist irons, and it fit perfectly. Quickly I unlocked all the bracers, tossing them into a heap in the corner. "Thank you, _ssssera_," whispered the first Argonian, but they still made no attempt to leave.

"Guys, you can go now," I told them. "Seriously."

Nobody moved. "Fine," I said, with a sigh. "In your own time, then."

Oh well, at least I'd done my good deed for the day. Maybe it would somehow make up for the not-quite-so-good one I was going to do later this evening.

Leaving the cave I felt a twinge of pain in my left shoulder, reminding me that I still had a fairly nasty wound to deal with. My muscles were starting to ache as well, and I hadn't even been fighting that hard. It was just beginning to dawn on me how very out of practice I was after a year in prison. When I was in the Guild I'd worked out nearly every day to keep myself in shape, but months of lounging around in a jail cell had taken their toll.

A Dark Elf woman paused in the middle of hanging out her washing as I limped past. "Outlander, you are wounded!"

"Yes, well noticed," I snapped, too tired and annoyed for politeness. "Did you _know_ that there were smugglers hiding out in the cave over there?"

"Of course," she said, nodding vigorously. "Everyone knows, but the guards just ignore it. Someone must have paid them off."

"Well, someone might have _told_ me!" I hissed. "Before I wandered straight into them!"

Her jaw dropped. "Outlander, are you saying you went in there _alone_? And… and came out _alive_?"

"Just about," I said sourly. "Anyway, they're all dead now. I hope there's some kind of reward for this, by the way."

She backed away slightly, clearly unsure whether or not to believe me. I shrugged and staggered on up to the tradehouse, ignoring Snotty Arrille's look of disgust at my dishevelled state and bloodstained clothing.

"A flask of your finest healing potion, Arrille, my good man," I rasped, tossing down some coins on the counter. "And do you have any Destruction spells?"

I made my purchases and then headed to the upper rooms for a well-earned bath, clutching a healing potion in one hand and the instructions for a powerful fireball spell in the other. Ten minutes later, relaxing happily in a tub of warm water, I remembered that Dunmer were virtually immune to fire magic – rendering my expensive new spell useless against well over half of Vvardenfell's population. Oh, well.

I scrubbed myself and my armour until we were both clean and shiny, and managed to torture my hair into something resembling neatness. That done, I put on my new clothes and went out to spend the rest of the day in Sedya Neen. I was careful to stay well within sight of the heavily-armed Imperial guards, though I did return briefly to the cave just to check what had happened to the slaves. They were gone.

At dusk, I went to the lighthouse to take up position for my observation of Fargoth. A young Dunmer woman, probably the lighthouse-keeper, was sat reading on a bench just inside; she shot me a rather curious glance as I passed, clearly wondering what I was doing there. I stuck my hands in my pockets and whistled as I walked up the stairs, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

The sun was sinking behind the horizon as I emerged on top of the lighthouse; it was getting distinctly colder, and a stiff breeze had sprung up. Suddenly I wished I'd bought some kind of coat or cloak to protect myself from the wind, instead of wasting my money on a near-useless fire spell. I positioned myself strategically behind the base of the lamp, where I couldn't be easily seen by anyone in the village, and settled down to wait.

You ever read those adventure stories where the hero trails the villains to their lair to spy on them, and it all sounds incredibly exciting? Don't believe them. I sat there for nearly four hours, huddled up and growing rapidly colder and stiffer, before I _finally_ spotted Fargoth creeping through the shacks at the water's edge. He was carrying a lit torch, and moving in such an exaggeratedly 'sneaky' way that I wondered he didn't alert the whole village.

To my surprise, he paused suddenly by the bank of a small pond and glanced around him to check that no one was watching. Satisfied, he proceeded to creep _into_ the water, where I saw him stuff something into a tree-stump in the middle of the pond. A-_ha_!

I waited until I was sure he was gone and then stood up, wincing with pain as the blood rushed back into my frozen muscles. It was near midnight now, and the only light came from the two moons, the lighthouse fire, and a couple of torches down in the village. I made my way down from the base of the lamp to the door which led back into the lighthouse, and gave it a careful push. It didn't budge.

I pushed again, harder, but it still didn't move. Oh, bloody _hell_, they'd locked it!

I looked around frantically, trying not to panic. The walls of the lighthouse were too smooth to climb, especially with all the gear I had to carry, and if I tried to jump from this height I'd probably break my neck. I could try knocking, but that might well alert one of the guards down below. As if on cue, I heard a faint rumble of thunder in the distance and felt a couple of drops of rain splash onto my head.

There wasn't much choice, was there? Either I stayed up here in the freezing cold and rain for the entire night, and missed my chance to get Fargoth's loot, or I risked arrest – not to mention severe embarrassment – by waking up the lighthouse-keeper. Of the two options, I decided I preferred the latter.

I had to knock several times, quite heavily, before the sleepy-looking Dunmer woman finally opened the door. She looked pretty astonished to see me, which was understandable. "Outlander, what are you doing up here? I thought you'd _gone_!"

"Sorry," I mumbled. "Just don't ask, okay?"

She shook her head in disbelief, but forbore to ask any more questions. I left the lighthouse as quickly as possible and hurried over to the pond where I'd seen Fargoth. It appeared to be part of the swamp, as it stank and the surface was covered with a thick coating of algae. Once I was sure that none of the patrolling guards were nearby, I rolled up the legs of my pants and waded knee-deep into the cold, stagnant, smelly water.

As I had guessed, the tree-stump was hollow. Inside I found a money pouch, a lockpick and a ring – ironically, the very same ring I'd recovered for Fargoth earlier in the day. Talk about playing both sides…

I managed to leave the pond without being spotted and headed back to the tradehouse, only to find that it had shut up for the night. I groaned in disgust and was just about to leave, hoping I could at least find a dry place to sleep, when I heard footsteps behind me and a hoarse whisper.

"Psst! Outlander!" It was the Nord soldier who had asked me to find Fargoth's hiding place. He looked even more drunk than he had earlier in the day, and was swaying slightly. "You get my money?"

"Here. Three hundred septims." I shoved the bag into his hand, trying rather unsuccessfully to conceal my distaste for the entire business.

"Ha! Sherve the li'l fetcher right for lying to me." He thrust a meaty hand into the bag and pulled out a handful of coins. "Here, take your share." He took a wobbly step towards me, leering into my face, and my heart sank. "You're _pretty_, y'know that?"

"No, I'm not," I said through gritted teeth. "That's just the ale talking. Now, if you'll excuse me – "

The man chuckled. "Jush kidding, outlander. Heard about you and the shmugglers. I can see you've Nord blood in yer, for all you're a stuck-up Cyrodiil." I took it that this was meant as a compliment. "Shay," he continued, "how'd you like to join the Legion?"

"Join the Legion?" I was momentarily taken aback. "Could I do that?"

"Sure! Jush head up north to Gnisish an' talk to General, uh… wossname. They're hiring there." He gave me a little wave and wandered off.

Wow, I thought. Only a day ago I'd been a convict on board a prison ship, now I was being asked to join the Imperial Legion. Truly Morrowind was a land of opportunity.

I'd never really considered joining the Legion before – I preferred the more relaxed atmosphere of the Fighters' Guild – but suddenly it didn't sound like such a bad idea. In my current penniless state, the prospect of free food, free beds and good-quality armour and weapons was pretty tempting. Though of course, there wouldn't be much point in joining if I was heading back to Cyrodiil in a few weeks.

Anyway, right now I needed to find a safe place to spend the night, preferably out of the rain. The cave would be dry, but I didn't fancy spending the night there with three dead bodies – quite apart from the blood and mess, waking up surrounded by vengeful ghosts was not my idea of fun. I ended up crawling under the wooden steps leading up to the tradehouse, and was just trying to find a comfortable spot when I was interrupted by a passing Legion soldier. "Sorry, citizen, you can't sleep here. It's illegal."

"But the inn is shut," I protested.

"Then you'll have to sleep outside the village. I'm sorry, ma'am."

Cursing under my breath, I gathered together my things and headed over the bridge that led to the mainland. It was seriously dark out here, and since I'd foolishly neglected to bring a torch I had almost no way to see where I was going. After wandering around for several minutes, trying to keep out of the rain and avoid stumbling into a bog, I finally managed to find a relatively dry patch of moss under a tree. There I settled down to sleep, clutching my sword and hoping I wouldn't wake up to find a mudcrab chewing my face off.

When I woke, it was early morning and the first weak shafts of sunlight were starting to filter through the trees. Birdsong filled the air, and I could hear a faint buzzing noise somewhere behind me. There was also a… rather curious smell, which I couldn't quite identify.

I hoisted myself into a sitting position, looking around me to see if the village was in sight, and suddenly froze. In the dim light, that weird shape a few feet away looked exactly like… good gods, it _was_, wasn't it? A man's body, lying spreadeagled on the ground and surrounded by a small cloud of flies – and a pool of dried blood.

I had to suppress a shudder as I approached the corpse. I'd seen far too many dead bodies to be squeamish around them, but this one was particularly disgusting; the man had clearly been dead several days, and his body was already beginning to decompose. His throat had been cut – probably from behind, as his face was frozen in a grimace of surprise and horror and it looked like he'd struggled briefly. Poor bastard.

I crouched down and began to search the body to see if there was anything to identify him. In a pocket of his robe I discovered a bag of money, around two hundred septims in all, and a list of names showing amounts owed to 'Sedya Neen Census and Excise Office' by each inhabitant of the village. My amazing powers of deduction allowed me to guess that this was Processus Vitellius, the missing taxman.

Great, I thought. Just great. Now I'd have to go back and report this to the Captain, and he'd probably want to start asking me questions. At least I couldn't be accused of _this_ murder; anyone could see the guy had been dead since before I'd arrived in the village.

Sellus Gravius looked anything but happy when I marched into his office. "Are you _still_ here? I thought – "

"Yes, yes, I'm _going_," I said testily. "I just came to tell you that I found your missing tax collector, out there in the swamp. Or what's left of him, at least."

His eyes widened in shock. "Then… he's dead? Murdered?"

"Yes. And it wasn't me," I added quickly. "He's been dead for days."

"Oh, dear," he sighed. "You'd better go and speak to Socucius Ergalla, over in the census office."

I returned to Socucius, the clerk who'd greeted me when I first arrived in Sedya Neen, and explained to him how I'd found Vitellius's body. "What a waste," he said sadly, shaking his head. "He was a good man, too. But these are dangerous times we live in."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, thinking of the cave of murderous smugglers two minutes' walk away from the village.

"Did you happen to find the tax money he collected?" he enquired. "I hate to sound callous, but I have a job to do."

"Yes, I did. Here." I handed him the pouch with the 200 septims, and the tax record showing who had paid.

Ergalla frowned. "How odd that he was murdered, but not robbed. Still, thank you, Ada – I appreciate your honesty." He paused. "In fact, if you're looking for some money, I would like to see Processus's murderer punished. Find him, bring him to justice, and the Census and Excise Office will pay you 500 septims."

Five hundred! I wished I'd known about this earlier. That way I wouldn't have had to spend the previous night freezing my arse off on top of a lighthouse.

"I'll find him," I promised. "Or her. Any ideas where I should start looking?"

"No," he said sadly. "Who could possibly have wanted to kill an innocent taxman?" Who indeed.

Amazingly enough, the people of Sedya Neen didn't seem all that keen on helping me with my enquiries. After asking several people I was eventually directed to Thavere Vedrano, the Dunmer woman who lived in the lighthouse. Apparently she and Processus had been good 'friends' and had been seeing a lot of each other lately.

I greeted her awkwardly, partly out of embarrassment over the previous night's events, but mainly because I wasn't sure how to break the news. "Hello, Thavere," I said softly. "I'm… afraid I have some bad news for you."

Her eyes widened. "It's Processus, isn't it?"

I nodded. "He's been found dead, I'm afraid. Murdered. I'm really sorry." Gods, I hated having to do this.

"Murdered!" she gasped. "But – but why?" She turned away, blinking back tears. "He was the gentlest man I've ever met. I've never seen him raise a hand to anyone. Who could have wanted to kill him?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I was hoping you might have some idea."

She thought for a moment, sniffling. "Well, I saw him arguing with Foryn Gilnith about his taxes. He thought Processus had been levying too much, and skimming off the top for himself." A choked sob escaped her. "Ridiculous! Processus wouldn't have done such a thing."

"All right, I'll speak with Foryn," I said. "You don't know of anyone else who might have wanted him dead?"

She shook her head, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "No. Outlander, Processus and I had become very… close, in the past few months. Could you find out what happened to the ring I gave him? I would like it to remember him by."

"I'll do my best," I promised, and left her to grieve in private.

Foryn Gilnith turned out to live in one of the wooden shacks by the waterside, a small, poky one-room cottage. The inside was as cheerless as the outside, with only a hammock for a bed and some rickety wooden furniture. Gilnith himself looked far from pleased to see me; I got the impression that he didn't much like outlanders, or at least Imperials.

"Good morning," I said briskly. "My name's Ada Ventura, and I'm investigating the murder of a certain Processus Vitellius. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

He met my glance defiantly. "That fetcher? You're damn right I did him in, and a good thing too!"

My mouth dropped open. I hadn't expected him to just come out and admit it!

"He was skimming a load of money from all of us honest people," he continued. "Overcharging us on our taxes and keeping the difference for himself. He was always flaunting his money around, showing off his new clothes and jewels."

"I see," I said, folding my arms. "So you slit his throat and dumped his body in the swamp."

He nodded. "Yes, and good riddance to the bastard. Look what I found on him!" He dug into his pocket and pulled out an expensive-looking ring. "You think he could afford this on a taxman's salary?"

"You idiot," I growled. "He didn't buy that ring, it was given to him by Thavere Vedrano. His _girlfriend_."

"Oh." For a moment he looked slightly uncomfortable, but then the defiance returned to his eyes. "So what are you going to do, Imperial? Kill me, or side with us poor folk and let me go?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "Look, you can't just go around killing people because you think taxes are too high! If you'll come quietly to the census office, I'm sure we can – "

He lashed out so quickly with the dagger that I only managed to dodge it by a fraction of a second. Automatically I struck back, skewering him through the ribs with my sword before I even had time to think. He staggered back, gurgling horribly as blood began to dribble from his mouth. I finished him off with a few clean strokes, not wanting to prolong his suffering, and he fell lifeless to the floor.

I gazed incredulously at the grim scene in front of me, shaking my head. _One single day_ I'd been in Morrowind, and already I'd killed four people and broken the law at least twice. What kind of reputation would I have by this time tomorrow?

I decided it was probably time to get out of Sedya Neen.


	3. Chapter 3: A Warm Welcome

**Chapter 3: A Warm Welcome**

Of course, what with all the fuss over the murder and Foryn Gilnith's death, I ended up missing the silt strider _again_ and had to spend yet another day in Sedya Neen. Naturally the news was all around the village in about five minutes, and for the rest of the day I had to put up with the other villagers scowling at me and muttering imprecations (from a safe distance, mind you). I don't think I've ever been so happy to finally leave a place. It wasn't all bad, though; I got the reward money, and Thavere gave me some healing potions as thanks for returning Processus's ring.

Just before I left, while no one was looking, I picked the lock on Fargoth's door and slipped inside his house. There I left his healing ring, along with three hundred septims and a short note telling him to be more careful next time. Stupid conscience.

I slept on board the silt strider – a fairly uncomfortable experience, but a lot better than the previous night – and was woken up next morning by the caravaner as we arrived in Balmora. I found myself standing at the top of a huge ramp, high enough to give me a view of the entire city. It was a pretty little town, with a river flowing through the centre and buildings constructed from warm brown stone – a very different style from Imperial cities, but still attractive. I wouldn't have minded living here, if I hadn't been so desperate to get back to Cyrodiil.

Directly below us I could see two Dunmer enjoying breakfast on top of one of the buildings. I decided to head down there and ask them the way to the South Wall cornerclub, so that I could get this Caius Cosades business over with. The sign on the building said 'Council Club' – it took me a minute to work this out, as the words were in Tamrielic but written in the Daedric script. I would later find out that this was very common in Morrowind.

When I got up to the rooftop, however, I started to think this might not have been such a good idea. The two men – a rough-looking pair, their faces marked with some kind of clan tattoos – looked at me as if I were something that had just crawled out of the river, and once again I got the uncomfortable feeling that I'd intruded somewhere I shouldn't. Still, it was too late to go back without looking like an idiot, so I plunged ahead.

"Good morning," I said, trying to sound as friendly and non-threatening as possible. "Sorry to bother you, but I've just arrived here and I was wondering if you could help me."

The pause that followed was far too long for comfort. Finally, with obvious reluctance, one of the men said, "What do you want, outlander?"

"Just some directions," I said. "I'm looking for the South Wall cornerclub?"

Instantly I realised I'd said something very wrong. The Dunmer glanced sharply at each other, and suddenly their demeanour became a whole lot more threatening. The second of them took a step towards me, a truly unpleasant expression on his face. "What sort of business do you have there, outlander?"

"Er, nothing much," I said hurriedly, wishing fervently that I'd tried somewhere else first. "I was just told they could help me find a… friend."

The two Dunmer exchanged another quick glance, and one of them nodded to the other. He took a couple of steps towards me, shoving his face right up against mine, and it took all my self-control not to back away from him.

"Listen, outlander," he said through clenched teeth. "We are Camonna Tong. And _you_ are a foreigner. And the Camonna Tong doesn't like foreigners. Understand?" He jabbed a finger into my ribs. "So go and ask someone else for your directions."

"Ah, traditional Dunmer hospitality," I said drily, determined not to let them see how nervous I was. The Dunmer's scowl deepened, and he ground his teeth audibly. "Fine, sorry I asked."

"Good," he snarled, still glaring at me. "Now go. _N'wah._"

I left the terrace, now in no very good mood myself. If this was the official Balmora Welcoming Committee, they really needed to work on their people skills.

It was still early in the morning and there were few people around to ask for directions. I thought about visiting one of the shops lining the streets, but now I was afraid of meeting with the same reaction from the shopkeepers. I was beginning to think that I'd just have to wander round the place until I stumbled upon South Wall, when suddenly I spotted a wooden sign on one building with a very familiar shield-and-swords logo. The Fighters' Guild!

A wave of relief swept over me. Surely they wouldn't turn me away? In fact, it would probably be a good idea to join up with them, presuming they'd have me. I needed the money, and with luck I might get hold of some free equipment.

I pushed open the door and entered. A Breton woman in light leather armour stood on guard at the entrance. "Hello, outlander," she said with a smile (how the heck did everyone instantly guess that I was an outlander?) "Looking to join the Fighters' Guild?"

"I was, actually," I said, smiling back gratefully.

"Then speak to Eydis Fire-Eye upstairs."

Eydis Fire-Eye was a Nord, as I had guessed from the name. She was a tall, stocky woman with red hair – not a weak gingery colour like mine, but a true, fiery red. The suit of armour she wore was made out of some kind of gold-coloured material which I didn't recognise, though it looked vaguely familiar.

"Well, speak up, Imperial!" she boomed, when I rather shyly introduced myself. "What do you want? You here to join us?"

"I was hoping to, yes."

She nodded. "Well, you look like you could take care of yourself. Would you like to hear our creed first?"

"I know it," I said. "I was in the Cyrodiil guild. Er… Defender," I added. "Though I've… been out of the game for a while."

She raised her eyebrows. "Defender, eh? Who'd you report to in Cyrodiil?"

"Uh… Modryn Oreyn." Oreyn was a Dark Elf, the Guildmaster's deputy. He was a good fighter, but he'd done little to combat the stereotype of Dunmer as moody, foul-tempered and generally obnoxious. I doubt he'd have let me back in the Guild even if I got back to Cyrodiil; he wasn't the forgiving type.

"Oreyn? I've heard of him. If you can handle him, you can handle anything." She pursed her lips. "Still, I'd better start you off as an Associate for now. Get some missions done, show us your skills, and you should rise back up through the ranks pretty quickly."

"Thanks," I said. "I'm busy right now, but I'll come back for orders as soon as I have time. By the way… did I hear that it was possible to join the Imperial Legion?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, I hear the Deathshead Legion up at Fort Darius in Gnisis is hiring. But don't take on too much at once, Ada."

Good advice. In retrospect, I really ought to have followed it.

Before I left, I took the opportunity to change my clothes and stock up on equipment from the Guild chest – just a few healing and stamina potions and some armourer's hammers, but that kind of thing could make all the difference out on a mission. In fact, it suddenly occurred to me that if free supplies were on offer, I might as well join the Mages' Guild as well. Okay, so I was useless at magic, but I didn't _have_ to do any duties for them.

I went next door to the Mages' Guild, where the Guild steward – a woman named Ranis Athrys – took my details and signed me up as an Associate. I was a little nervous that she might ask me to actually perform some magic before letting me join, but in fact the process was as quick and simple as it had been at the Fighters' Guild. By this time I was getting pretty hungry, so I headed for a tavern called The Eight Plates which one of the other Guild members had recommended to me.

"Would you like to try a kwama egg?" the barkeeper asked me when I sat down at the bar. "It's a Vvardenfell delicacy."

I'd never had a kwama egg before – in fact, I wasn't even sure what a kwama was – but I decided to live dangerously and order one. While I was waiting for it to arrive, I took out the letter I'd been given by Sellus Gravius and read through it. It began as follows:

_Ada Ventura_

_You have been given these directions and a package of documents. Do not show them to anyone. Do not attempt to read the documents in the package. The package has been sealed, and your tampering will be discovered and punished._

There followed instructions to take the package to Caius Cosades, and a warning in case I was thinking of absconding:

_Remember. You owe your life and freedom to the Emperor. Serve him well, and you will be rewarded. Betray him, and you will suffer the fate of all traitors._

It was signed by 'Glabrio Bellienus, Personal Secretary to the Emperor'. Hmph. Whatever.

The kwama egg arrived. It was at least four times the size of any other egg I had seen, and I wasn't entirely sure how I was supposed to eat it. I tapped cautiously at the shell with my spoon, trying to crack it open without spilling the contents everywhere.

The Dunmer man seated next to me laughed, but not unkindly. "Like this, outlander." He showed me how to cut the shell open with a knife and scoop out the soft centre.

"Thanks." I tried a small spoonful. It tasted a little strange, but I'd definitely had worse.

"So you are new here?" my neighbour asked me as we tucked into our eggs. "What do you think of our city?"

"Well, some of the people here could be a little more friendly," I said sourly, thinking back to the Balmora Welcoming Committee.

He looked shocked, and a little upset. "I am sorry to hear that, _sera_."

Suddenly I felt rather guilty. It wasn't this guy's fault that other people had been unfriendly to me; maybe I'd just been unlucky. "Sorry," I said hastily. "It's just that those people at the Council Club practically bit my head off when I spoke to them."

He practically choked on a mouthful of egg. "The Council Club? You went in there, outlander?"

"Er... yes," I said. "Shouldn't I have done? It was right next to the silt strider."

He shook his head vigorously, then leaned towards me and lowered his voice. "That is the headquarters of the Camonna Tong."

"Who _are_ they, exactly?"

"The old criminal syndicate here in Morrowind." His voice fell to a whisper. "I didn't tell you this, but everyone knows that their leader is Orvas Dren, the Duke's brother. And they loathe outlanders."

"Okay, I'll keep out of their way," I promised. "Maybe _you_ could tell me where the South Wall cornerclub is?"

Again he spluttered on a mouthful of food. "You went to the Council Club and asked about _South Wall_?"

I threw up my hands. "Look, maybe you could explain to me exactly what's going on here? So that I don't end up getting myself killed just by talking to the wrong person?"

"Very well." He glanced around to ensure that nobody was listening. "You're an Imperial, so I think it is safe to tell you this. The South Wall club is the hideout of the Imperial Thieves' Guild – they're in a gang war with the Camonna Tong."

Well, that explained a lot. I was quite interested to hear that the Thieves' Guild operated openly in Morrowind; back in Cyrodiil, the official line is that they don't exist (though of course, everyone knows they do).

"Okay," I said with a sigh. "I'll be more careful who I speak to in future. So… are most people here this hostile towards outlanders?"

He shook his head. "No, most of us are loyal citizens of the Empire… well, in Balmora, at least. We're a House Hlaalu town."

I'd heard of House Hlaalu, a little. They were supposed to be the most forward-thinking and pro-Imperial of the Dunmer Great Houses; my uncle traded with them through his agent in the East Empire Company. He was forever complaining about how they'd swindled him on some deal or other, but then he said that about everyone. At the very least he seemed to respect them as good traders – worthy opponents, if you will.

"So do any of the Houses accept outlanders as members?" I asked.

He nodded. "Technically all of them do. It's hard for an outlander to rise in their ranks, but some do – there's even a Nord on the Hlaalu Council."

I was impressed. The Dunmer and the Nords are ancient enemies; they've been fighting along the Morrowind-Skyrim border since time immemorial. The Hlaalu must be pretty open-minded to allow a Nord into a high-ranking position.

"Imperials like you usually do best in Hlaalu," he told me. "Not as friendly to outsiders up north in Redoran country… and _definitely_ not as friendly out east with the Telvanni wizards. If you want to join, go to the Council Manor in the High Town."

Well, maybe I would check it out. It couldn't hurt to have some friends in high places.

After obtaining directions from my new Dunmer friend, I set out to find the Council hall. The 'High Town' turned out to be a part of town that was literally raised above the rest, up a flight of steps in the north-west of the city. It was easy to see that this was where the wealthy people lived; the houses were larger and in better repair, and the shops looked a lot more up-market.

The Hlaalu council manor was easy to spot; it was by far the largest building around, and hung with banners. The first person I encountered on entering was a well-dressed Dunmer woman, who looked at me searchingly before saying anything. I was glad now that I'd taken the time to freshen up at the Guild; my outfit wasn't exactly the height of fashion, but at least I looked clean and presentable. Having apparently decided that I measured up to her standards, she gave me a nod and a cautious smile.

"Greetings," she said pleasantly. "I am Nileno Dorvayn. I keep business going here in Balmora while the Hlaalu Councillors are away… which is most of the time. How may I help you?"

"About House Hlaalu…"

"The Hlaalu councillors have conferred upon me the great honour of interviewing those who wish to become members of our illustrious House." She sounded like she'd made this speech a thousand times. "Do you want to join House Hlaalu? You seem like a worthy candidate."

I wasn't entirely sure how she could tell that based on twenty seconds' acquaintance. "I'm not sure," I said cautiously. "I'd like to, but I'm not planning to stay in Vvardenfell for much longer."

She frowned. "But outlander, haven't you heard?"

"Heard about what?"

"They've restricted travel to the mainland because of the Blight. It's a serious disease caused by ash storms," she added, seeing my blank face.

I felt my heart sink like a stone. "Aren't they letting_ any_ ships through?"

Nileno shook her head. "All ships from Vvardenfell are being turned back until further notice. Apart from a few Imperial shipments, but they have special permission."

Damn! Damn, damn and damn! Well, that was Morrowind Escape Plan A shot to hell. I'd have to pull some serious strings to get out of Vvardenfell now, and I didn't _have_ any strings to pull.

I heaved a weary sigh. "I see. All right, in that case I guess I might as well join House Hlaalu."

"Very well," she said briskly. "You are now a member of House Hlaalu. When you are ready, we can discuss business and advancement in the House."

"Whoa!" I'd thought there'd be a little more to it than that. "Isn't there anything you should tell me first? Any… rules I should know?"

A faint smile played around her lips. "The rules of House Hlaalu are simple: Never interfere with the business of House Hlaalu. Or if you do," she said with a wink, "be sure you are not caught."

Fair enough, I suppose. Not exactly what I'd expected, but…

I promised to come back later in the day to discuss 'business' with Nileno, then left the hall to resume my hunt for Caius Cosades. I was about to head for the South Wall club when I spotted a strange-looking building off in the distance, set a little apart from the town on top of a hill. It was built in a different style from most of Balmora: flat, roundish, with some kind of glass dome on top. I decided to take a closer look.

The sign outside the building had more Daedric writing on it, but it didn't seem to spell out anything sensible. There were just three letters of the Daedric alphabet: _ayem_ (a), _seht_ (s) and _vehk_ (v). At the bottom of the sign, in Tamrielic, it said 'Tribunal Temple'.

So this is a Temple, I thought, looking at the simple, squat building constructed from packed mud. It was certainly very different from the beautiful chapels of the Nine in Cyrodiil, with their soaring ceilings and stained-glass windows. On impulse, I decided to go in and take a look around.

I'd never been particularly religious, myself. Oh, obviously I _believe_ in the gods – it's hard not to when you can walk into any chapel and get free healing and blessings just by saying a quick prayer – but as far as I was concerned, we had a simple arrangement: I didn't bother them and they didn't bother me. I knew very little about the so-called 'Tribunal', except that the priests in Cyrodiil sniffily referred to them as "the false gods of the heathen Dunmer". Well, now I had the chance to find out.

At first sight, the interior of the Temple looked more like a boarding house than a place of worship – several beds and bunks were visible in rooms just off the entrance hall. Through another door was a room with two shrines and a gravel pit, surrounded with candles and scattered with what I was shocked to realise were human bones. Or possibly Elven bones, which wasn't much better.

A woman in a priestess's robe approached me. "Welcome, my child. Can I help you?"

I inclined my head somewhat nervously towards the pit. "What are the… er… bones for?"

"We Dunmer venerate our ancestors, child." She must have guessed the direction of my thoughts from the expression on my face. "No, we do not sacrifice people! What kind of savages do you take us for, outlander?"

"Oh, I wasn't thinking that," I assured her, hastily and untruthfully. "Er… whydon'tyoutellmeallaboutyourreligion?"

The strained expression on her face relaxed a little. "Well, the Tribunal Temple is the native religion of civilised Morrowind. We worship ALMSIVI."

"Almsivi?"

"Our gods, _sera_. Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec, also known as the Tribunal."

"Oh, I get it," I said suddenly. "_Ayem_, _seht_, and _vehk_, right? The letters on the sign outside."

She beamed. "Exactly! Would you like to hear more of our Temple, outlander?"

"OK, go ahead," I heard myself saying.

Her eyes lit up. I got the impression she didn't get asked to do this very often, especially not by outlanders. "Well, Almalexia is our Healing Mother, protector of the poor and weak. Sotha Sil the Magus is the patron of Artificers and Wizards. And Lord Vivec is a master of weapons and poetry, the most gallant knight and subtle rogue of the First Council. He lives in His palace in Vivec City here on Vvardenfell."

I blinked. "Hold on… you said he _lives_ there? You can _see_ him?"

The priestess gave me a rather pitying smile. "Our gods are not like your Divines, outlander. They live, and breathe, and walk among us."

"How… nice," I murmured. To be honest, I wasn't sure I liked the idea of bumping into God down the local tavern. I mean, what if you forgot yourself and swore on their name or something? No wonder the Dunmer had such a reputation for religious fanaticism.

"Would you like to join the Temple, my child?" she continued. "Or would you like to hear our doctrine first?"

"Well, er…"

"You will receive discounts on Temple services," she coaxed me. "Such as blessings at shrines, for example."

Actually, that didn't sound like a bad idea. I'd benefited from Divine healing more than once in my own country, and if these were the local gods, it might be a good plan to get on side with them.

"I'll hear the doctrine first," I said cautiously, one eye still on the ancestor pit.

She nodded. "Your fourfold duties are to: Faith, Family, Masters, and all that is good. Perform holy quests and bring lustre to the Temple. Never transgress against your brothers or sisters – in thought or deed – as we are all one body. If you somehow fail to uphold these ideals, you must speak with a Master or the Patriarch to be cleansed of your wrongdoings."

I felt a slight twinge of guilt at the 'family' part – maybe I ought to write and tell them where I was… But anyway, the rest didn't sound too bad. I just hoped that my own gods, the Nine Divines, wouldn't be too pissed off by this – not that I'd ever properly worshipped them in any case.

"All right," I said. "I'll join."

A few minutes later I was walking down the steps to the river, now clutching a copy of a book called _The Pilgrim's Path_. Apparently I had to complete a pilgrimage to seven holy shrines – all in different parts of Morrowind – before I could progress any further in the Temple. Given that I'd just joined four different factions in one morning, that sounded like it could take some considerable time.

I walked over the bridge to the east side of the river Odai, where the commoners and the poor people lived. As I crossed the river, I saw a large group of children fishing on the opposite bank – mostly Dunmer, but also some humans and even a Khajiit. Nice, I thought, to see them all playing together like that.

I finally managed to find the South Wall – right at the other end of town, surprise, surprise – and the owner, Bacola Closcius, directed me to Caius Cosades' house. Turned out I'd walked right past it on my way to the club. Sighing, I made my way back up to the north edge of town and found what appeared to be the right house. I knocked cautiously.

The door creaked open and Caius Cosades stood before me. He was in his early sixties, with greying hair and an intelligent-looking face, but what struck me most forcibly was that he was wearing nothing but a grubby pair of pants. I had to fight the urge to avert my eyes, and not just out of feminine modesty. He wasn't in bad shape for a sixty-year-old, but honestly, a half-naked old man was _not_ a sight I wanted to see this early in the morning.

"Uh… Caius Cosades? I mumbled, trying not to look at the hairy chest. Couldn't he at least get dressed properly before opening the door to visitors? And him an Imperial, too. It was a disgrace.

A faint smile hovered around his lips. "Me? I'm just an old man with a skooma problem."

"Right," I said uncertainly. "Because if you are Caius, I was told to deliver this package to you."

"I see." He took the package out of my hand and scrutinised it closely, then glanced at the letter I'd been given by Sellus Gravius. "Well, you'd better come in."

I entered the tiny, one-room house, wondering just what I'd got myself into. Was this really Caius, or had the Thieves' Guild people pulled a fast one on me and sent me over to the local lunatic?

The interior of the house was messy and not too clean, a little like its owner. Dirty bottles and overturned chairs littered the floor, and a strong smell of skooma pervaded the room. On the other hand, looking around, I saw several books – with titles like _On Morrowind, the Imperial Province _and _The War of the First Council_ – which didn't really fit in with the overall image of dinginess and squalor. Caius ripped open the package I had given him, took out the sheets of paper it contained, and flung the wrapping into a corner of the room.

"Why don't you sit down." He directed me to a bench in the corner. "Just wait here a minute while I look over these instructions you gave me…"

He sat down on the bed and began to read through the papers, nodding occasionally and saying things like "Hmph," and "Mmm." At one point his brow furrowed and I saw his eyes dart back and forth several times, as if he were re-reading a passage to make sure he'd understood it correctly. Finally he flung down the papers with a sigh, looked up at me, and smiled.

"Well, my friend," he said. "It appears that the Emperor wants me to make you a novice in the Blades."

For the second time in three days, I felt as if I had been hit over the head with a large mallet. "_What_?" I squeaked. "Me, a Blade?"

"Ah, then you've heard of us?" he said, with another smile.

I closed my eyes briefly, wondering if I'd somehow gone completely mad. Of course I'd heard of the Blades; they were the Emperor's personal bodyguard and secret service, the elite of the elite. And now I was being asked to join, just like that?

"I have, yes," I said. "But… look, it can't possibly be me they're talking about. There must be some mistake."

"No, I don't think so. This is the Emperor's seal." He looked closely at me. "You _are_ Ada Ventura, aren't you? Born on the twenty-first of – "

"Yes, yes," I assured him. "I'm Ada. But… I'm sorry, I just can't get my head around this. Does the Emperor really think I'm Blades material?"

"Apparently so," he said, shrugging. "Wouldn't have thought so, to look at you. But orders are orders."

I would have been insulted, but the truth was that _I_ wouldn't have thought so to look at me either. I was a nobody, and I knew it. So what could possibly have caused the Emperor to take notice of me? I cast my mind back over my past adventures, searching vainly for something that might have marked me out as a candidate for the Blades. I was a reasonably competent fighter, but…

"So does this mean you're a Blade as well?" I gazed in disbelief at the scruffy old man sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of me. At the stained walls, the dirty floor…

Caius's face broke into a sudden grin. "No one would _ever_ suspect it, would they?"

"I see your point," I conceded. But gods, how could he stand to live like this? If he was expecting me to do the same, he could forget it.

Caius stood up. "So, Ada. Are you ready to follow my orders?"

"I… suppose so," I said, still too bewildered to think of refusing. "But – "

"Good! Welcome to the service, Novice Ada." He grasped my hand and shook it heartily. "Now you belong to the Blades. You can use my bed if you need to rest, but leave my personal stuff alone unless I say otherwise. Now, would you like orders straight away, or would you like to get some skill practice in first?"

Absolutely no way was I sleeping in this guy's bed, with or without him in it. "Um, I guess I could do with some practice," I mumbled. "But I –"

"Okay, I'll give you a list of the Blades trainers here in town. Now, first thing, pilgrim – " He reached into a pocket and pulled out some coins. "You're new, and you look it. Here's 200 drakes. Go get yourself some decent weapons and armour, or a spell."

My mouth snapped shut. If he was offering me 200 drakes before I'd even done any work for him, I wasn't about to complain. I'd do whatever tasks he wanted me to do, and _later_ I'd explain my plans to return to Cyrodiil. After all, I could do with the extra money.

"Second thing," he went on, "you'll need a cover identity. Sign on with the Mages' Guild, or the Fighters' Guild, or the Imperial Legion. Or you could even try one of the Dunmer Great Houses, if you're inclined that way."

"Already done," I said proudly. "I've joined the Fighters' Guild, the Mages' Guild, House Hlaalu… and I'm thinking about joining the Legion if I ever get up to Gnisis. Oh, and, er… the Tribunal Temple."

He looked a little surprised. "The Temple? That's an… unusual choice. Why not the Imperial Cult?"

"They asked first," I said with a shrug. "There isn't anything _wrong_ with the Temple, is there?"

"No, not as such – they're narrow-minded and superstitious, but I admire their concern for the poor. But few outlanders join." He paused. "House Hlaalu, though… they're very open to outsiders. Greedy and ambitious in the best Imperial tradition."

"What are the other Houses like?" I asked, suddenly interested.

"House Redoran are warriors, a very serious and honourable bunch. But the Telvanni… ah." He screwed up his face. "Their nobles are thousand-year-old wizards. Powerful mages, but arrogant and elitist." Just like mages everywhere, then.

I would have asked more, but it was almost midday and I'd promised to speak to Nileno. "Well, I guess I'd better be going," I said, standing up. "Thanks for the money and everything. Er, when shall I come back?"

"When you're ready," he said with a smile. "Take your time; practice your skills, and then come back when you feel ready for orders. No need to rush."

As I turned to leave, I noticed something lying on the floor by the bed: a skooma pipe of good quality, half-filled with liquid. Was he _really_ a skooma addict, I wondered, or was it all just part of his cover story?

I left the house and headed back over the bridge into western Balmora, glad to be able to breathe fresh air again. The skooma vapours in Caius Cosades' house had been so powerful that I was half inclined to think I might have hallucinated the entire conversation, but the 200 drakes he had given me were certainly not a hallucination. I managed to find a clothier's shop where I purchased some reasonable-but-not-too-expensive clothes, then went to the Fighters' Guild smith to buy some armour. Then, decked out in my new outfit, I went back to the Hlaalu council hall in the High Town.


	4. Chapter 4: Down To Business

**Chapter 4: Down To Business**

Nileno Dorvayn looked at me with raised eyebrows as I entered the hall. "You've certainly smartened up since I last saw you."

"Came into a bit of money," I said, shrugging. "So, what about this business, then?"

She frowned suddenly. "Wait a minute, Ada. Say that again."

"Er, business? You wanted to discuss… business?" She was staring at me with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"What a coincidence!" she exclaimed. "You sound very much like Relmerea Saram, a Redoran who died… recently."

"Redoran," I said uncertainly. "That's the warrior House, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, and our rivals in business. Would you be willing to disguise yourself as Relmerea and get orders from House Redoran, then bring them to me?"

I hesitated. "You want me to impersonate a Redoran spy?"

"That is correct, yes."

Wow, these Hlaalu certainly threw you in at the deep end. I'd been expecting my first assignment to be more along the lines of "deliver these packages for us" or "make the tea".

"Okay," I said cautiously. "I suppose I can do that."

"Good! Take this helm." She handed me a closed helmet made of that same yellowish material that Eydis wore as armour. "Speak with Neminda at the Redoran council in Ald'ruhn, and make sure you're wearing the helmet. When she asks what you want, tell her that you are an 'orphan of Arnesia', and she should give you a coded message to deliver. Bring it to me instead. Got it?"

"Orphan… of… Arnesia," I murmured, scribbling down the instructions in my journal. "All right, that sounds simple enough. But… won't she wonder why I'm wearing a helmet?"

Nileno shook her head. "Relmerea was disfigured in battle, and was known for always wearing her helmet. That's the only reason I'd ask you to try and fool Neminda. She's a Redguard woman, by the way; you can't miss her."

I briefly wondered how Relmerea had died, and how Nileno had acquired the codephrase, before deciding that I probably didn't want to know the answer to either of those questions. Great House politics was clearly a dirtier business than I had imagined.

Rather than take the silt strider to Ald'ruhn, which would have taken several hours, I decided to ask the Mages' Guild guide to teleport me there. I'd never used a Guild guide before (we don't have them in Cyrodiil, for some reason), and I wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

The Balmora guide turned out to be a woman named Masalinie Merian, a Breton (or so I guessed from the name). I paid her a small fee and asked her to transport me to Ald'ruhn. There was a _whoosh_, a brief sensation of lightness, and suddenly I was standing in front of a completely different mage in a completely different Guild hall – presumably the Ald'ruhn one. Simple as that.

Why didn't we have anything like that in Cyrodiil, I wondered, as I looked around for the door. This Guild was built in a somewhat different style from the one in Balmora; there were few windows in evidence and it appeared to be mostly sunk into the ground. I'd soon find out why.

I headed up to the top floor and opened the street-level door, only to be hit in the face by a blast of red dust. "Gaaaahh," I choked, slamming it shut again and rubbing my eyes frantically.

One of the mages patted me gently on the back as I coughed and hacked. "Watch out for the Blight storm, outlander. You can catch diseases from that."

Muttering to myself, I pulled on the helmet which Nileno had given me and headed out into the storm.

My first impression of Ald'ruhn was that it was quite possibly the ugliest place I had ever seen. The ash storm and the ominous red sky didn't help, but neither did the crumbling walls and the dry, cracked ground, or the lack of plant life. The buildings were truly bizarre in appearance, resembling nothing less than the giant shells of long-dead creatures dotted around the landscape. When I'd first heard I was coming to Morrowind, this had been the kind of scene I'd pictured.

The guards here all wore full suits of armour and face-concealing helmets – probably to protect themselves from the frequent storms. It was clear that they didn't have as much contact with outlanders as those in Balmora; they all spoke good Tamrielic, but more formally and with a heavier accent. "Under Skar, outlander," one of them called over his shoulder, when I tried to ask for directions to the Redoran Council.

"Scar?" I said helplessly, but he was already walking off into the storm.

I stumbled around trying to find someone else to help me, but none of the ordinary citizens scurrying around in the storm would stop to talk. Finally I bumped into another guard, who actually deigned to stop and speak to me for a few seconds. "Skar is the shell of the Emperor crab, outlander." He gestured towards a flight of steps to the northwest.

So these buildings really are shells, I thought, as I struggled up the steps against the driving wind. Ingenious, but who in their right mind would found a city in a place like this?

The 'Skar' building was easy enough to spot once I got up the steps; it was a massive shell which utterly dwarfed all the other buildings. I hurried towards it, desperate to get out of the storm. The helmet provided pretty good protection against the wind and dust, but it was hot and uncomfortable and made it difficult to see anything.

It didn't help that the closer I got to the Council hall, the more nervous I was getting about the task I had been asked to perform. By the time I reached the doors to Skar I was sweating profusely, and not just from the exertion. I'd never been half as scared when facing off against bandits or necromancers in some gods-forsaken tomb out in the wilderness. How could anyone possibly have got the idea that I would make a good spy?

Only the sight of the Skar interior was enough to briefly take my mind off my upcoming mission. It was a truly astounding sight: the hollowed-out shell formed a vast chamber, with a huge spike rising up from the centre of the floor. Fanning out from the top of the spike were several wooden walkways, each leading to doors set in the 'wall' of the shell. I stepped onto the first walkway with some trepidation, but it seemed solid enough.

I stopped to adjust my clothing before entering the Redoran council hall, ensuring that not a single inch of bare skin was visible. By this point I was utterly paranoid that something – my figure, my walk, my outfit – would tip off Neminda that I wasn't the real Relmerea, and get me thrown straight into a Redoran jail. Or would the guards just kill me on the spot?

I took a deep breath to calm myself before entering the Council hall. To my surprise, I was immediately struck by the beauty of my surroundings: the walls, ceiling and pillars were intricately patterned and hung with tapestries, while rich woven rugs adorned the floor. Balmora might be prettier on the outside, but Ald'ruhn definitely had the edge in terms of interior décor.

Neminda wasn't difficult to spot; she was the only Redguard woman in the place. In fact, she was the only _human_ in the place, and the only one I'd seen since arriving in Ald'ruhn (unless you counted the Bretons in the Mages' Guild).

When I approached, she gave me such a warm and friendly smile that I felt my insides twist with guilt. "Hi there, what can I do for you?"

I lowered my voice slightly, doing my best to sound at least somewhat like a Dark Elf. "I am an Orphan of Arnesia."

"Oh, certainly, Relmerea," she said instantly, fishing out a scroll and handing it to me. "Here are your orders – they're in code, of course. Deliver them to Maar Gan as usual."

"Thanks," I mumbled, not wanting to say any more than I absolutely had to.

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Are you okay, Relmerea? You sound a little strange."

"Fine," I croaked. "Er… got a cold."

"Oh, I am sorry," she said sympathetically. "Well, I hope you feel better soon. Goodbye now."

"Goodbye," I murmured and left quickly, now feeling like the worst person in the world. I really wasn't cut out for this sort of work.

I tried to look calm and nonchalant as I walked back to the Guild, but in truth I was expecting to hear shouts and running feet behind me at any moment. In my paranoia I imagined that every guard was looking at me suspiciously – and to make matters worse, I suddenly realised what looked so familiar about that material they wore as armour. It was bone.

It was at this point that I very nearly panicked and broke into a run. In the event it's probably a good thing I didn't, as it would undoubtedly have aroused suspicion. Nevertheless, I didn't feel at ease again until I was safely back in the Balmora Mages' Guild, and not _completely_ safe until I was back in the Council Manor and handing the coded orders over to Nileno Dorvayn.

She took a quick look at them and nodded. "Yes, this is exactly what I wanted. Good work, Ada – keep the helm, and take these 500 drakes for a job well done."

I gaped at her. 500 drakes for my first job? But she was handing me a real purse filled with real money.

"Would you like further orders?" she asked, oblivious to my astonishment.

For 500 septims a throw, the answer to that was 'hell yes'. Just as long as she didn't ask me to do any more spying.

"Very well," she said, when I shrugged and nodded. "I need someone to visit an apothecary in Vivec and... acquire certain alchemical formulas. Go to the shop of Aurane Frernis, find some of her notes or formulas, and bring them back to me."

I blinked. "You want me to _steal_ them?"

"I want you to… _acquire_ them."

"By any means necessary?"

"Yes," she said calmly. "Barring violence, of course."

I hesitated. Even for five hundred septims, I wasn't comfortable with the idea of stealing anything. But maybe there was another way…

"All right," I said at last. "I'll do my best."

I decided not to keep the helm, even though Nileno had said I could have it. Okay, so presumably it was made of animal bones rather than humanoid ones, but the idea of wearing bone as armour just creeped me out. (A bit strange, since I have no problem wearing leather, but there you go.)

After stopping for a bite to eat, I paid another visit to the smith before heading to Vivec. Five hundred drakes would allow me to buy good-quality steel armour rather than the crappy iron stuff I was wearing now. It felt a bit strange to be exchanging armour I'd only bought earlier that day and hadn't even used, but at least it allowed me to get a better price for it.

Luckily there was a Guild guide in Vivec as well, so the journey there took seconds as opposed to the day or so it would have taken by silt strider. In the Vivec Mages' Guild I passed an elderly Imperial man who nodded absent-mindedly to me; I would later discover that this was Trebonius Artorius, the head of the Guild.

Emerging from the guild, I found myself at one end of a huge plaza – not open to the elements, as I had expected, but completely covered over with a high domed roof. Several buildings, mostly guilds and shops, were set in a row on either side of a wide central walkway. At either end of the plaza was a huge set of double doors, presumably leading outside.

"_Submit to the Three, the Spirits and thy Lords_," a voice hissed in my ear, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I whirled round to see the speaker – a soldier in an impressive-looking uniform of blue and gold. The elaborate golden helmet he wore covered his entire head, and had a sinister-looking face painted onto it; the effect was distinctly unnerving.

"Don't_ do_ that!" I gasped, my fear quickly turning to annoyance. "You made me jump! Who are you, anyway?"

"We are the Ordinators," he hissed. "The holy guards and soldiers of the Temple."

"So," I said carefully, "you're some kind of religious… police?"

He nodded, and I could almost see the unpleasant smile behind his helmet. "Go about your business, citizen. But remember… we're watching you."

I was just going to love Vivec, I could tell.

As I headed for the nearest set of doors, a Redguard man standing nearby shoved a leaflet into my hands. "Take this, friend! It has important information."

I nodded politely and was about to stuff it into my pack for later, when I spotted the name 'Aurane Frernis' written in large capital letters. Surprised by the coincidence, I paused to look over the leaflet, which read as follows:

_BEWARE!!!!_

_HAVE NO DEALINGS with AURANE FRERNIS!!!_

_She is known to be both UNDERHANDED and UNETHICAL in her dealings!!!_

_The materials she uses are both SHODDY and DANGEROUS!!!_

_You could come to GREAT HARM from her products._

_Her shop should be AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS!!!_

_See these testimonials:_

_"I took potion and got sick. Lost good lunch." - Grugbob G._

_"Her materials looked old and stale. Not good for alchemical use." - Daren O._

_"She should be disembowelled and fed to nix hounds." - Hlorngar F._

I stared at the leaflet and then at the Redguard, an idea beginning to form in my mind. "Where can I find this Aurane Frernis?"

"She's in the Lower Waistworks," he told me. "Just go out through those doors, then back through one of the smaller doors to the left or right, and down the stairs in the centre. But I wouldn't buy anything from her."

Out in the open air, I found myself standing on a walled balcony several stories above the ground – or rather, above the water. Looking down, I could see that Vivec had no streets as such, only a series of canals. Through a haze of fog I could dimly perceive several massive square buildings, similar to the one I was standing on, but there didn't seem to be any way to reach them apart from a single bridge far below. It seemed a terribly impractical way to design a city.

My opinion wasn't improved when I entered the 'waistworks', a series of twisty passages and winding staircases that seemed deliberately designed to get people lost. The narrow passageways and low ceilings, combined with the lack of windows, quickly brought on a feeling of mild claustrophobia. I'd only been in this place five minutes and already I hated it.

At last, more by luck than anything else, I stumbled across a sign saying 'Aurane Frernis: Apothecary'. Inside the shop I laid the ground by purchasing a few random potions, including some I'd never heard of before – what was a 'Potion of Rising Force', for example? I'd no idea, but I spent an amusing couple of minutes trying to imagine.

"By the way," I said casually, as I handed Aurane her payment. "Did you know that someone up in the plaza is handing out leaflets about you?"

I showed her the leaflet, and her face turned white with shock. "What's this? This is ridiculous! It's all lies!" She slammed the leaflet down on the counter. "I tell you what, Ada – if you can find out who is behind this slander, I'll reward you well!"

"All right," I said casually, trying hard to conceal my glee. This was going _exactly_ as I had hoped. "I'll see what I can do."

Back in the plaza, I marched up to the Redguard and dangled the leaflet in front of his face. "These leaflets are all lies. Why are you doing this?"

He hesitated. "Slander is a crime," I reminded him. "You want me to report this to the Ordinators?"

The man's eyes widened in fear. "No! Listen, friend, times have been tough for me and mine." He wiped his brow. "So when Belan offered me some gold to hand these out for her, I jumped at the chance. Gotta make ends meet, you know?"

"Belan?"

"Garulo Belan," he muttered. "She's an apothecary in the Telvanni canton. She makes the leaflets, I just distribute them."

I couldn't be sure he was telling the truth, but it occurred to me that I could go to the Telvanni canton myself and confront Galuro. I asked a passer-by how to get to the canton. "The quickest way is to take a gondola," he told me. "But be careful if you're going there – they're known to kidnap people and take them as slaves, or hold them for ransom."

…Okay, maybe I wouldn't go to the Telvanni canton. Not yet, at least.

"I've found out who makes the leaflets," I announced to Aurane on returning. "It's Galuro Belan, in the Telvanni canton."

"Galuro Belan? That fetcher!" Aurane looked furious. "I can't believe she'd do this to me! I'm reporting this to the magistrate. Well, thank you for your help – here's your payment." She scooped up a handful of coins from her box of change.

"I don't want payment," I said quickly, waving it away. "But as it happens… I was wondering if you could possibly give me the recipe for some of your potions. That wonderful 'Rising Force' potion, for example." I gave her my sweetest smile. "We don't have _anything_ like that in Cyrodiil."

Aurane shook her head. "I am grateful to you, Ada, but I can't reveal my secrets. Other alchemists are constantly trying to steal my formulas." Her eyes narrowed. "Particularly those in House Hlaalu."

Uh-oh. "Hlaalu? Don't be ridiculous," I said, with a nervous laugh. "I'm not a Hlaalu, I'm House… Redoran. Just joined up the other day, in fact."

She looked skeptical. "Really? Who signed you up?"

"Neminda," I said promptly. Aurane still looked uncertain. "Well, never mind," I said, shrugging. "I guess I'll just be going, then. I hope your business prospers, Aurane."

"No, wait! I…" She hesitated. "I suppose you have helped my business. Oh, very well." She scribbled down some notes on a sheet of paper and handed it to me. "Just don't give it to anyone else in House Redoran."

"I certainly won't," I assured her, with perfect truth.

Once again I felt more than a little uncomfortable with myself as I returned to Balmora. I hadn't done anything technically illegal – yet – but all this lying and cheating was not really my cup of tea. The Fighter's Guild had a strict code of honour, and I doubted they would approve of what I was doing on the side.

After collecting another 500 gold from Nileno, I decided not to accept any more 'business' from House Hlaalu for the moment. Besides, it was getting late. I chose to stay at the Fighters' Guild that night, as it was free (the Mages' Guild would have done as well, but somehow I felt more comfortable among fellow warriors). Caius Cosades' house was not even worth considering.

The next morning, after breakfast, I decided it was time to do some jobs for the Guild. I went to see Eydis Fire-Eye and asked if she had any duties for me.

"Well, I have a very simple contract to end an infestation of cave rats." She winked at me. "You might be able to handle it."

Ah yes, the traditional 'rat-catching' assignment given to new recruits. I remembered that all too well from my early days in the Guild. I agreed to the job, but I had to struggle to conceal my humiliation; it was a little like being sent back to the nursery class with the children who couldn't read.

The client, a woman named Drarayne Thelas, lived in a small house on the east side of the river. "Are you Fighters' Guild?" she snapped, the minute she saw me on her doorstep. "Well, it's about time!"

I'd met with this attitude plenty of times before, so I just smiled politely. "Ada Ventura at your service, ma'am – er, _sera_. I'm here about the cave rats?"

She nodded. "These rats are such a nuisance! I'm worried they'll eat all of my pillows. You like pillows, don't you, Ada?"

"Er… yes," I said. "Very much."

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed, clearly delighted to have found another pillow enthusiast. "Anyway, I've got one trapped in my bedroom here, and the other two are in my storage area upstairs. Rats, that is... not pillows." She handed me a small key. "Here's the key for that door. Oh, I do hope they haven't gotten into my good pillows..."

I tackled the rat in the bedroom first, before moving onto the storeroom upstairs. She certainly did have quite an impressive collection of pillows, I had to admit. Some had been scattered around a bit, but luckily none of them seemed to have come to any serious harm.

"Good news, Drarayne," I announced, returning to the ground floor. "All targets neutralised; the pillows are safe."

"Safe? Oh, _thank_ you, Ada!" For a moment I half-expected to get a pillow as a reward, but instead she handed me some money. "Here, take these 100 septims. It's what I agreed to pay the Guild."

I thanked her and left the house, shaking my head. At least with Operation Pillow Protection I'd proved I could handle a sword without dropping it or cutting myself; maybe I could get a _real_ job next time.

Eydis agreed, and promoted me to the rank of Apprentice. "Okay, want more orders? I need someone to return a codebook that belongs to our client."

"Who has it?"

"A woman named Sottilde." I was just trying to think where I'd heard the name before, when she added, "You can find her at the South Wall here in Balmora."

Ah yes, I remembered Sottilde: she was the first person I'd spoken to when I'd entered the cornerclub the day before. She was a Nord, and since she hung out at South Wall, that presumably meant she was Thieves' Guild. This could be slightly tricky.

In the event, however, Sottilde proved to be a bit of a pushover. The minute I mentioned the codebook to her, she stiffened and became visibly nervous. "What codebook?"

I didn't want to resort to threats immediately, since as far as I knew she'd done nothing wrong (apart from being a thief, of course). Instead, I offered her some coins. "Look, here's fifty septims. Now just hand over the codebook and we can forget this ever happened, all right?"

"Eydis sent you, did she?" She sighed. "Okay, I have the codebook. But I want more than that for it."

I looked at her through narrowed eyes. "I just gave you fifty, how much more do you want?"

"It's valuable. Two hundred drakes."

"_Two hundred_? You're joking." I took a step towards her. "Fifty is all you're getting. Don't make me get nasty about this."

It felt a bit strange to be threatening someone who stood half a head taller than me, but I'd learned long ago that you could get away with all sorts if you looked like you _meant_ it. Sottilde hesitated for a moment, doing her best to look defiant, but quickly abandoned the attempt.

"Oh, all right," she muttered. "I don't want any trouble with you, so take it. Just don't tell anyone I gave it to you."

I thanked her politely and made to leave the building. Just as I reached the door, she called after me: "Oh, outlander?"

I looked back over my shoulder, my hand on the doorknob. "What is it?"

"If you've just joined the Fighters' Guild, watch out for yourself." She folded her arms. "There's lot more going on there than you know about."

"Such as?"

She gave me a tight little smile. "You'll find out soon enough."

I went back to the Guild hall, wondering what she meant, and what the Thieves' Guild had wanted with the codebook in the first place. I did sneak a quick look at it, but it was all gibberish.

Eydis seemed pleased to receive the book, praising my 'obedience' and 'efficiency' and promoting me to the rank of Journeyman. She also paid me a grand total of fifty septims, perfectly balancing out the fifty I'd given Sottilde for the codebook. It was a good thing I was actually making money on the jobs I'd done for House Hlaalu.

Since I had plenty of spare cash for now, I decided that it was time I went and got some training. Rescuing defenceless pillows and purloining people's alchemical formulas might be fun, but it wasn't going to get me in shape for whatever Caius had in store for me. Not that I particularly _wanted_ to do any missions for him, but getting dragged off and jailed for treason was something I wanted even less.

In the afternoon I looked up one of the Blades trainers in Balmora, a Redguard warrior named Rithleen, and asked for tuition in swordfighting and blocking techniques. The first time we fought she beat me soundly, so we tried a second time and she beat me _again_. And a third time. By the end of the day I was exhausted, but at least I was starting to recover some of the technique I'd lost during my year in jail.

"You're not bad," she told me approvingly, following what seemed to me like yet another humiliating defeat. "You just need to keep up the practice."

After another day of training, I decided I was just about ready to handle a mission from Caius – it couldn't be that difficult to start with, after all. So I went over to his house bright and early the next morning.

Caius looked pleased to see me back so soon. His house was exactly as I remembered it – messy, grubby and reeking of skooma fumes – and so was he. He still wasn't wearing a shirt; in fact, I was sorely tempted to offer to go out and buy one for him. I actually found myself wondering how I could introduce the subject without causing offence: "You know, I think you'd look really _nice_ in yellow…"

"So, Ada, back already?" he asked, looking pleased. "Are you ready for orders now?"

I shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Good. Now," he leaned forward, "I want you to talk to Hasphat Antabolis at the Balmora Fighters Guild. Ask him what he knows about the secret cults of the Sixth House and the Nerevarine."

I took out my journal so I could make some notes. "What was that word? The… Neveragaine?"

"Nerevarine."

"…Neverarine?"

"Ne-re-var-ine."

"Ne-re-var-ine," I repeated, feeling like an idiot. "What _is_ a… Nerevarine?"

"Not _what_," he corrected me, "but _who_. Some Dunmer believe that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, will one day unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. They call this orphan and outcast the 'Nerevarine', and say the Nerevarine will be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councillor, Lord Indoril Nerevar."

I was struggling to keep up. "Okay. And there's some sort of cult around this Nerevarine guy? You think they're a threat to the Empire?"

"I'm not sure… yet." His expression was serious. "I don't know much about it; that's why I'm sending you to find out."

"All right. And the _Sixth_ House? I thought there were only three?"

Caius shook his head. "No, there are two more – Indoril and Dres. But they have no holdings on Vvardenfell."

"So what is the Sixth House, then?"

"A trusted informant says they're a secret cult associated with some strange events recently," he explained. "And that these are related in some way to the Nerevarine Prophecies. But Hasphat will be able to tell you more."

I'd seen Hasphat a few times at the Guild, where he was a drillmaster, but not yet had occasion to speak to him. He was a very ordinary-looking middle-aged Imperial, not someone I'd thought would be involved with the Blades – but then, it seemed that half of Balmora was mixed up with them in some way. You could barely turn around in that place without bumping into a member of the Emperor's super-secret intelligence service. How they managed to maintain their cover was beyond me; I was beginning to wonder if the entire town was in on the secret.

"You'll have to do him a favour first," Caius warned me. "Probably an ugly favour. But do it, then get the information and report back to me."

I went over to the Guild, where Hasphat was training down in the basement – alone, luckily enough. "Mr Antabolis?" I said, when he broke off to greet me. "I'm Ada Ventura. Caius Cosades sent me to you."

"Ah." He looked at me with an expression of faint amusement. "So you're the latest hero, are you?"

Seeing the confusion in my face, he motioned me to sit down on one of the benches. "Caius says he's fed up with heroes," he said, sitting down beside me and resting his hands on his knees. "The Empire keeps sending them out here to the provinces to 'civilise' things. The fools don't seem to realize that their 'destinies' are being created by historical processes."

"What do you mean?"

"Caius and I always argue over the role of the individual in history. Tiber Septim, for instance." He paused. "I say Tiber Septim changed the world. Caius says he was a product of his time, and if he hadn't lived, some other person would have served his function. What do you think?"

I'd never really thought about it at all, to be honest. "I don't know," I admitted. "And in all honesty, I don't really care. What's the point of arguing about something that happened centuries ago?"

His eyes twinkled. "And you? Are you going to change the world, do you think?"

"Not if I can help it," I said bluntly. "Right now, all I want to do is find a way to get back to Cyrodiil as soon as possible. But don't tell Caius that."

"Poor Caius," he said, with a faint smile. "So many disappointments. Anyway, how can I help you?"

I explained to him that I needed to know about the Sixth House and Nerevarine cults, and he nodded. "Yes, I've heard of the Sixth House. But before I tell you anything, I need you to do a favour for me."

Oh, _big_ surprise. "Which is?"

"Have you ever been in a Dwemer ruin?" he asked.

I'd heard many fantastic tales of Dwarven ruins in Morrowind, filled with strange contraptions and ancient machinery, but I'd hardly even believed them – let alone had the chance to visit them myself. "No, never."

"Well, there are Dwemer ruins nearby called Arkngthand. I need you to run over there and find me a Dwemer puzzle box. It's a little cube, about the size of a fist, with a circular design and some symbols on one side."

I stared at him. "What do you want with something like that?"

"That," he said, tapping his nose, "is my business".

Sighing, I noted the details down in my journal and then stood up. "Could you just explain one thing to me, Hasphat?"

"Go on."

"You must be a more experienced fighter than I am," I said. "So why do you want _me_ to get this box for you?"

"Because," he said calmly, "I have the information you want, so you have no choice."

He just grinned at the dirty look I gave him.


	5. Chapter 5: It's Off To Work We Go

**Chapter 5: It's Off To Work We Go**

I wasn't in the best of moods as I set off from Balmora, following the directions I'd been given to Arkngt… okay, I wasn't even going to try to pronounce that name. I was still a bit pissed off that Hasphat expected me to fetch him this Dwemer box thing, which he was apparently too lazy to get for himself, in return for telling me a few stupid Dunmer legends. Since he hadn't gone himself yet, presumably that meant the place was infested with bandits or spiders or huge mutated bunny-rabbits or something. Still, at least it meant I'd get in some sword practice.

The weather was bright and sunny, but not too hot – one of the few things about Morrowind that I actually preferred to my home country. Summer was drawing to a close, but in Cyrodiil it would still be baking hot this time of year. I remembered the long hours I'd spent in my stuffy jail cell, longing for fresh air, and then longing for shade whenever they let us out to work or exercise.

As I crossed the last of a long series of bridges over the Odai river, I saw a large stone building looming up in the distance – Fort Moonmoth, the local headquarters of the Imperial Legion. It was built in the classic Imperial style, and looked weirdly out of place in the alien surroundings; a little piece of Cyrodiil here in Morrowind. I paused to look at it for a few seconds, and felt a brief pang of homesickness.

The road leading north sloped gently upwards. I followed it until I came to a sign pointing towards 'Molag Mar'; then, as I'd been instructed, turned onto a dirt track leading north-east. I had to admit that I was a little curious now to see this Dwemer ruin – I vaguely remembered hearing that they constructed entire fortresses out of iron and steel. Though I could have been mistaken, as I'd never really paid that much attention to my history tutors.

"The Dwarves were a _fascinating_ people, Ada," they would tell me. "Amazing scholars and craftsmen. They weren't really dwarves, of course, just another Elven race – they only got that name because…"

"Quite," I would agree, while my mind drifted off to happy thoughts of ancient Ayleid ruins and treasure chests and shiny, shiny swords.

My first glimpse of real-life Dwemer architecture came in the form of a bridge over a wide canyon, edged with thick metal pipes. Coming closer, I could see that they were indeed made of iron – amazing that it hadn't rusted away completely after all these years. There was some kind of writing carved into the railings, but as it was all in Dwemeris I had no idea what it meant. For all I knew it was saying, "Caution: Serious structural faults have been found in this bridge. Cross at your own risk."

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted something in the distance, at the other end of the bridge: a male human standing beside a pile of crates. I froze. Friend, or foe?

I got my answer a few seconds later when _he_ spotted _me_ – and began running towards me with a distinctly non-friendly gait. I drew my sword quickly and shifted into a fighting stance, only for him suddenly stop about twenty feet away and cast a summoning spell. Oh crap, a mage! I wasn't prepared for this!

Slightly panicked, I backed away a few steps as the bonewalker summoned by the mage headed straight for me. A blast of shock magicka struck the ground right by my feet, and I leapt aside, trying to get closer to the guy without getting hit by a spell. I knew from experience that it was best just to ignore the bonewalker; it would disappear when the caster died, and if I killed it he'd just summon another one.

The next blast of magicka hit me dead on, and for a second I felt as if I was being roasted alive. Honestly, you haven't experienced true agony until you've been hit by a shock bolt. I gasped in pain and stumbled to the side, just as the bonewalker's axe slashed down on the spot where my head had been half a second ago.

One chance. I knocked the bonewalker back with my shield, then raised my arm and gasped out a fire spell as my opponent prepared to cast another shock bolt. Amazingly, it worked. This time it was the mage's turn to roar in pain as I rushed straight at him and smashed the flat of my sword down on his head. I spun round, just about managed to parry another blow from the bonewalker, then summoned all my strength to deal the caster a final vicious blow.

The mage toppled and fell. The bonewalker vanished. I lowered my sword and stepped backwards, gasping for breath.

What was a bloody _battlemage_ doing out here in the middle of nowhere? I groped in my pack for a healing potion and swigged it down, grimacing as I felt the burning sensation gradually fade away. Talos, I had to pick up some kind of magickguard spell before my next mission.

I searched the man's body – he was a Cyrodiil, from the looks of him – but didn't find anything to indicate why he'd been standing in the middle of a bridge waiting to attack hapless travellers. He didn't _look_ like a mage, I thought resentfully, observing his simple clothing and heavy iron cuirass. There ought to be some kind of rule.

I scanned the horizon carefully while crossing the bridge, wary of further attacks. The place seemed deserted, but the winding path up ahead looked like the perfect place for an ambush. The place was almost eerily silent; the only sound to be heard was the piercing shriek of birds in the distance, which didn't exactly reassure me.

Still, no further assailants appeared as I made my way up the steep track towards Arkngthand. The fortress wasn't what I had expected; at first sight it appeared to be built _into_ the rocky hill, as if it had been swallowed up by a landslide. Only a few strangely-shaped towers poking out of the ground suggested that this was a building, as opposed to a cave. Where the door ought to have been was just a hemispherical bulge, like half of a giant stone ball.

Approaching the 'door', I could see a long, thin crack in the stone surface – clearly the two halves of the sphere could be slid apart if you knew how. I poked at it and tried to slide the blade of my sword into the gap, but absolutely nothing happened. Sighing, I turned around to look for clues, wishing I had done some research on Dwemer architecture before coming up here.

A little way down the hill was another of those metal pipes with Dwemer writing on it, and looking closely I could see some kind of crank handle attached to the pipe. With nothing to lose, I turned the handle, and heard the creaking of machinery in the distance. The two halves of the stone sphere slid apart and around, revealing a small circular platform.

As I stood and watched for a few seconds, the sphere closed up again. I turned the handle once more and _ran_ towards the platform, cursing the Dwemer for their bizarre architectural quirks. What was the point of a door like that?

The outer doors closed up behind me to reveal another door, this one made of metal and covered with lettering and images. It swung open at my first touch, and I entered the fortress.

I found myself at the top of a massive underground cavern, with a stone ramp leading down and around the walls to the ground far below. Most of the light came from torches, a clear sign that the place was inhabited, but the lamp above the door I'd just come through was the strangest I'd ever seen. It was a kind of glass tube bracketed to the wall, and inside it was some kind of glowing… thread? Wire? It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen in the Ayleid ruins in Cyrodiil.

I took a few cautious steps onto the next section of ramp and felt it shift slightly, producing a loud whirring noise. Instantly I heard shouts from down below and saw a couple of men – both human, by the look of them – draw their daggers. I watched in astonishment as they ran out from cover and _up_ the ramp towards me, possibly the stupidest move I had seen in my entire career as a fighter. Clearly they were either very inexperienced or extremely dumb.

This time I was ready for them, and fighting them off was ludicrously easy. I simply knocked the first one back with my sword as he approached, sending him skitting into the second man just behind him. After that it was an easy matter to deal with them before they could even begin to untangle themselves.

I made my way down to the ground below, then up another ramp onto a platform made of studded metal. Somewhere further into the fortress I could hear loud creaking sounds, apparently from some kind of machinery. How could it possibly still be working after so many centuries, millennia even? There had to be some type of magic involved.

This part of the cavern seemed to be used as a home base by the inhabitants, but the only furniture of note was an old cabinet. I searched through the drawers and bottom cupboard, but found them frustratingly empty of Dwemer puzzle boxes. What I did find was a couple of very ancient-looking coins, probably of Dwemer origin, and a rusty metal cog. I decided to take the coins with me – if they were ancient and rare, they might well be worth quite a bit.

At the left side of the room was a round iron door with another of those strange lamps above it. I put my ear to it and listened for sounds of life, but couldn't hear anything over the groaning of the Dwemer machinery. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The first thing I saw on entering the room beyond was a large and mean-looking man wearing a rusty cuirass. "What the…?" he began, then his eyes fell on my blood-covered sword and he seized up a heavy axe lying beside him.

There are times when it's actually an advantage to be smaller, lighter and more agile than your opponent. As the man rushed at me I froze in mock terror, then leapt to the side just as he swung the axe. It crashed into the wall just inches from my head, and I darted out and around him before he could raise it for another blow, skewering him through the chest from behind.

"If you'd just stopped to talk, maybe we could have sorted this out peacefully," I snarled as he collapsed to his knees, groaning.

This chamber was small, low-roofed and filled with old crates and rickety-looking shelves. A hiss of steam escaped from a crack in the pipe that ran through the centre of the room. The creaking sounds were a lot louder here, to the point where I could hardly hear myself think. Luckily I spotted what I was looking for almost immediately – a small cube, engraved with glowing runes, just sitting there on one of the shelves.

There was nothing else of interest in the room apart from a few more of those Dwemer coins. I briefly considered exploring the rest of the fortress, but as I wasn't being paid to cleanse it of bandits or outlaws or whoever these idiots were, I decided not to bother. Despite what you might think, I don't actually _enjoy_ killing people – even in the Fighters' Guild, most jobs involve things like escort duty rather than actual fighting. (Doesn't stop snotty mage-types from portraying us as bloodthirsty thugs, of course.)

By the time I got back to Fort Moonmoth, it was well past noon and I was very hungry. I wondered if I might be able to get some supplies at the Fort; it couldn't hurt to try, at least.

The soldiers patrolling the courtyard nodded to me as I passed, and a few of them greeted me as an 'Imperial sister'. The inside of the fort was instantly recognisable to any Cyrodiil, with its typically Imperial construction and wall hangings showing the dragon, the symbol of the Empire. It felt almost like home.

Some traders had set up stalls in the main hall. I approached a Nord wearing Templar armour, who seemed to be in charge of the fort, and asked whether he knew of anyone who might be willing to buy Dwemer coins from me. "I found them in the Dwemer ruins up on the hill," I explained. "I'm sure they must be worth quite a bit."

He gave me an odd look. "They certainly are," he said slowly, "if you don't mind being arrested for smuggling. Don't you know that trading in Dwemer artefacts is illegal?"

"What?!"

"Figured you hadn't heard." He shook his head, chuckling. "Trying to sell contraband Dwemer artefacts in an Imperial fortress? Well, I never."

Burning with embarrassment, I deposited my haul of coins with the much-amused guard and went off to search for food. I approached an Imperial trader selling a variety of goods, and immediately wished I hadn't when he greeted me with, "Welcome! May I tell you about the Imperial Cult?"

"Actually I'm a member of the Temple," I said hurriedly, glad to have a real excuse for once. (In Cyrodiil I'd have responded with, "No, I worship Malacath," or "I serve the Night Mother. Praise the Unholy Matron!")

He looked shocked. "But you are Imperial! You follow the Nine, surely?"

"Well, yeeesss," I admitted. "I do pray to them now and again. But – "

"Then why should you not join the Cult as well?"

I stared at him. "You can join _both_? Isn't that kind of… cheating?"

"The Nine will not judge you for it," he said calmly. Actually, that was probably true; the Nine are almost ridiculously liberal by divine standards. If you're a Daedra-worshipper and betray your patron god, heaven help you.

"Uh… maybe some other time," I said, not keen on joining yet another faction who'd expect me to perform tasks for them. The man's demeanour grew noticeably colder, and I'm positive he decided to raise his prices right then and there. Still, I wasn't buying much, so it didn't matter.

I ate my food in the courtyard and then set off for Balmora, now very much in need of a rest and even more in need of a bath. Honestly, I don't know how anyone can stand actually living in a place like Arkngthand. I'd make the worst bandit ever; after a week or two I'd be so fed up of the living conditions that I'd probably turn myself in out of sheer desperation.

"Here we are, Hasphat" I announced as I returned to the basement of the Fighters' Guild. "Your Dwemer puzzle box."

He put a finger to his lips. "Not so loud, my friend. Don't you know it's illegal to trade in Dwemer artefacts?"

"I do now," I said. "I tried to sell some at Fort Moonmoth. I wish you'd told me that a little earlier."

Hasphat ignored me, too busy examining the box. "Hmm… the inscriptions on the box seem to be the directions for setting a Dwemer key to open a specific lock. If you're interested, after you've delivered your report to Caius, come back, and maybe I'll have a key you can take back to Arkngthand."

Why the heck he thought I would want to go back to Arkngthand was beyond me. "Okay… thanks. Er, can I have the report now?"

"Here are the notes for Caius. And I've given you some Sixth House references he should read." He handed me a sheet of paper with a list of books, above which was a single paragraph:

_House Dagoth is an extinct Great House. In the wake of the ancient Battle of Red Mountain, its leadership was revealed to have plotted treason, and was discredited. Many of House Dagoth died defending the House; those survivors who were faithful to the Great Council were redistributed among the other houses. The Temple says the ancient, legendary evil beings that dwell beneath Red Mountain in the Dagoth Ur region are the original leaders of this extinct house, sustained by some powerful, evil sorceries._

I flung down the paper in disbelief. "_Four lines_? That's all? I could have got all that just from reading a history book!"

"Then I suggest you do so," he said with a wink. "Try the bookseller Dorisa Darvel in the Commercial District."

I glowered wordlessly at him, unable to believe that I'd trekked all the way out to Arkngthand when I could have just walked down the road to the bookseller's. "You bastard. All right, what about the Sixth House Cult?"

"I've heard something about a cult worshipping Dagoth Ur," he said. "That's the leader of the extinct House Dagoth. They plan to overthrow the Temple and drive the Empire from Morrowind… and I've heard they also smuggle goods, or hire smugglers, or something like that."

I wrote all this down. "And the Nev… uh, Nerevarine?"

"Well, Nerevar was the general who led the other Great Houses in battle against the Dwemer. The Ashlanders – the native tribes of Vvardenfell – believe that a reborn Nerevar, the 'Nerevarine', will unite the Dunmer against the outlander invaders. But the Temple denies the prophecy, and persecutes those who believe in it."

"So do you know anything about this Nerevarine cult?"

He shook his head. "Not a lot. Tell Caius that Sharn gra-Muzgob would be a better person to ask."

My ears pricked up; that name sounded Orcish. "All right," I said, getting to my feet. "Thanks, Hasphat." _For nothing._ Honestly, I doubted he'd told me anything that wasn't fairly common knowledge.

I took Hasphat's notes along with the ones I'd written myself, and returned to Caius Cosades. I did _not_ visit the bookseller first; there was no way I was going to buy all those books for Caius. If he wanted them, he could damn well get them himself.

"Here are your notes," I told him, handing them over. "They're a bit… brief."

He glanced at the papers and nodded, his expression unreadable. "Very well. Thank you, Ada."

"There's one thing I don't get," I said slowly. "If this 'Dagoth Ur' betrayed Morrowind to foreign invaders… why would he be worshipped by people who want to drive out foreign invaders?"

"A good question," he acknowledged. "I think we may need to investigate this further. But right now we need more information about the Nerevarine cult."

"Hasphat mentioned Sharn gra-Muzgob."

He nodded. "Ah yes, you'll find her at the Mages Guild. Very smart… for an Orc. She's always worried that the Temple will bust in and stick her in a fire, and with good reason."

"Why?" I asked, astonished. "Do they hate Orcs so much?"

"No. Well, yes, but no more than they hate most other outlanders." He shook his head. "But Sharn has a somewhat unhealthy interest in… well, you'll see."

Now that he'd mentioned it, I did remember seeing a female Orc wandering around the Mages' Guild. She stuck out like a sore thumb in a place dominated by Elves, Bretons and Argonians. I had to confess to being a little surprised to see her there; the Orcs aren't exactly known for their love of scholarship. Still, nice to see someone defying the stereotype.

After dinner and a bath, I went to the Mages' Guild to see if I could catch a few minutes with Sharn. She was in a secluded area of the Guild, filled with bookcases and alchemical equipment, but she looked very busy. I decided to buy some spells first and come back to her later.

"Do you have any magick shield spells? I asked Estirdalin, a haughty-looking Altmer (honestly, the phrase 'haughty-looking Altmer' is a bit redundant).

She shook her head. "Try Marayn Dren; he handles Alteration."

Marayn Dren, a Dunmer mage, was a bit more helpful. "Yes, I have shield spells. Would you like to guard against fire, frost, shock, poison or other magickal attacks?"

"Um… all those things?"

He shook his head. "Only one type of shield can be cast at a time. You could enchant an item with all those effects, but it would be expensive."

Gods, why did they have to make everything so _complicated_? This is why I've always hated magic so much. Why can't anyone come up with a simple all-in-one magickguard spell, as opposed to five separate ones? Why do I have to learn one spell to cure myself of a common disease, but a different spell to cure _someone else_ of exactly the same disease? And come to that, why do they have to give all of them stupid names like 'So-and-so's Gift', rather than something descriptive like 'Thirty-second Light spell' or 'Summon Useless Daedra'?

I decided to forget about shield spells for the moment, and instead purchased a spell called 'Ondusi's Open Door' which Dren assured me would open around half of all locks. That was, if I could ever manage to cast it in the first place. (Let's just say that Alteration was never my strongest subject.)

Afterwards I went back to Sharn, hoping she might have time to speak to me. Unfortunately, she didn't seem too pleased to see me: no sooner had I begun to speak than she broke in with: "I _cannot _think with all these interruptions! _Please_ leave me alone!"

"Look, I'm sorry to bother you but it's quite important," I said testily, my own patience wearing thin by this point. "Caius Cosades sent me here to ask you some questions."

Instantly her expression changed. "Oh, you're one of Caius's associates? Well, why didn't you say so? That is a different matter, of course."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. "I need you to tell me about the Nerevarine cult."

"Well, I'm sure we can come to an… arrangement," she said. "But first I need you to do an errand for me. Bring me the skull of Llevule Andrano from the Andrano ancestral tomb."

"Oh, not you as well!" I threw up my hands in disgust. "What am I, a bloody courier service? What's so special about this Llevule Andrano, anyway?"

She shrugged. "He was no one special. A journeyman enchanter. But I need his skull for my… research."

I shot her a suspicious glance. "You're not a necromancer, are you?"

"No!" she retorted, rather too quickly and vehemently. "I told you, I simply need it for research purposes."

"Research into… necromancy?"

"NO!" She glared at me. "And don't say that so loud! Just go and bring me the skull, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

Great. Spying, extortion and now grave-robbing. By the time I got out of Morrowind, I'd probably have progressed to drowning kittens and stealing money from charity-boxes.

"Oh, all right, if you insist." I heaved a sigh. "But you'll have to wait a while. I have important business for… House Hlaalu." I didn't, but I soon would.

"Well, take this old sword," she said, handing me a shortsword with a fire enchantment on it. "Some of those ghosts are immune to normal weapons. And these scrolls might come in handy… here, let me write you down some directions. Good luck now."

I stored all my gear in a chest in the Fighters' Guild and went to the Council hall, which luckily was still open. "Ah, you're back!" Nileno Dorvayn exclaimed, the minute she saw me. "Are you here about business? Because I have the perfect task for you: Guar hides!"

"Guar hides?" I wasn't even sure what a guar was.

"That's right," she said briskly. "House Redoran sells more guar hides than House Hlaalu. Someone needs to convince the alchemists in Vivec to buy only imported Hlaalu hides."

I stared blankly at her. "But… I don't _know_ anything about guar hides."

"Then make something up," she snapped. "You're an Imperial, aren't you? Flattery and deceit ought to come to you as easily as breathing."

I decided to ignore this disgraceful slur against my race (not least because it's largely true) and just focus on the payoff. "Okay, I'll try," I said, suppressing a sigh. "Which alchemists, anyway? I can't go back to Aurane Frernis – I told her I was a Redoran."

She sighed, in a 'do I have to explain everything' kind of way. "Well, we'll start with Rolasa Oren. Go to Vivec and convince her to buy imported House Hlaalu guar hides instead of local House Redoran hides."

"But surely imported ones will be more expensive?"

"Of course," she said, shrugging. "You will just have to be very persuasive."

I'd had a long day, and at this moment I was sorely tempted to tell her exactly where she could stick her stupid guar hides. It was a good thing these people were paying me well, I can tell you that.

It was getting fairly late by the time I left the manor, so I stopped by the Eight Plates tavern for dinner. Following that, I went over to the Mages' Guild and badgered one of the alchemists into telling me everything she knew about guar hides. By the end of the evening I knew far more about the bloody things than I or anyone else could possibly want, and I _still_ wasn't particularly confident in my ability to convince Rolasa Oren.

It was too late to do anything else that night, so I'd have to leave this particular piece of 'business' for the next morning. Not that I was exactly looking forward to it in any case.

I slept at the Fighters' Guild again that night, and had a very strange dream. I was in some kind of graveyard or cemetery, surrounded by dead bodies, and following a man dressed only in a golden mask and a loincloth (I really didn't want to think what sort of issues my subconscious was throwing up here). The strangest thing was that he was speaking and laughing with each figure as he passed, though they (obviously) weren't replying. I tried to cry out, but found myself unable to speak, and I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat.

"Off to Vivec again?" enquired Masalinie Merian when I turned up once again at the Mages' Guild. "What in the world are you doing there?"

"You don't want to know," I mumbled.

Over in Vivec I located the alchemist Rolasa Oren, who had a stall in the upper waistworks of the Foreign Quarter, and spent nearly half an hour explaining why imported House Hlaalu guar hides were superior to local (and less expensive) House Redoran hides. Of course, I had no idea whether this was true or not; I'd made the whole thing up based on the notes I'd taken at the Mages' Guild. Rolasa was understandably skeptical, and I'm pretty sure she finally agreed just so that I would shut up and go away.

The whole thing left me feeling faintly disgusted with myself, just like the other missions I'd done for House Hlaalu. Imperial or not, I simply didn't have any taste or aptitude for this kind of wheeling and dealing. I'd become a fighter to get _away_ from that kind of thing.

I have to admit, though, that my principled objections wobbled a bit when I found out just how much Nileno was paying me. "A _thousand_ septims?"

"That's right," she said with a smile. "Think of it as a small share of House Hlaalu's future profits."

I could only shake my head in wonderment. In the Guild I'd have been lucky to make that much in a month, let alone a single job. I couldn't just walk around carrying that kind of money; I'd have to open a bank account or something.

"Tell me, Nileno," I said carefully. "Are all the Houses quite as… _ruthless_… in business as Hlaalu?"

She sighed. "The Redorans are honourable and fair in their dealings with other Houses, but they have no business sense. Those of us in House Hlaalu understand the power of wealth, and do not ponder morality day after day." Well, that I could certainly believe. "Speaking of which, how would you like to undertake another mission to Ald'ruhn?"

"Uh, maybe," I said warily. "What is it this time?"

"A very simple matter." She took a sealed scroll from her bag. "I need you to deliver new orders to Bivale Teneran, the clothing merchant under Skar. She keeps an eye out for us in Ald'ruhn."

Ah, more secret-agent stuff. Well, delivering orders wasn't too bad – I just hoped they hadn't put out an alert for someone fitting my description after my last visit to Ald'ruhn.

I took the scroll and was about to leave, when a thought struck me. "By the way, Nileno, could you tell me something? What _is_ a guar, exactly?"

She stared at me in amazement for a few seconds, then suddenly burst out laughing. "You don't _know_?" You managed to persuade Rolasa Oren to buy our guar hides, and you don't even know what a guar is?"

"I know what a guar _hide_ is," I said, shrugging. "I know all about guar hides. But no one ever bothered to explain what a guar was."

Nileno was still chortling. "A guar is a herd animal kept by farmers," she said at last, when she had calmed down enough to speak. "A little like your cows or sheep, perhaps." She shook her head. "Well, Ada, I congratulate you. You will go far in House Hlaalu."

Hmph. Right now, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to.


	6. Chapter 6: Tomb Raider

**Chapter 6: Tomb Raider**

Since I wasn't exactly desperate to get on with either of my current missions, I decided to go to the Fighter's Guild and see what Eydis had to offer. I'd done enough silly trainee missions for her now; hopefully she'd have something more worthy of my talents (such as they were).

I wasn't disappointed. "We have a contract to kill four Telvanni agents," she told me. "They're responsible for trouble up at the Caldera mine."

"What sort of trouble?"

"The Caldera Mining Company says they've learned a group of Telvanni agents are spying on the mine works. There have been a number of ebony thefts, missing guards, escaped slaves, and these Telvanni agents are responsible."

I looked up sharply. "Escaped slaves?"

"That's right." She took my map so that she could mark the location of the Caldera mine. "The four agents are hiding in a cave in the hills north of the mine. When they're dead, report back to me."

So, the Caldera Mines used slave labour? I felt my heart sink. I'd been hoping that at least the Fighters' Guild jobs would be something I could do with a clean conscience. But I knew well enough that I couldn't pick and choose the missions I took, as long as they were legitimate contracts.

"So, Telvanni," I said with a sigh. "Mages then, I take it?" Maybe I'd have to grit my teeth and buy up those magickguard spells after all.

To my surprise, Eydis hesitated slightly before replying. "No… not mages. They're Thieves' Guild."

I frowned, slightly bemused. I didn't know much about the Telvanni yet, but from what I had heard about them, it really didn't sound like they got on with any of the Imperial guilds. "Why would the Telvanni be hiring Thieves Guild people as agents?"

"Who knows? But this isn't a Thieves Guild job." I would have asked more questions, but something in the look on her face told me that they wouldn't be at all welcome. "Here are the directions and the names of the four agents. Now, get to it."

I said nothing more, but I couldn't help thinking about Sottilde and what she had told me. What was going on here – some kind of Guild war? Well, whatever it was, it was probably better for me not to know about it. I'd no love for the Thieves' Guild anyway; I just wished this contract didn't involve working for slavers, even indirectly.

Having accepted the mission, I was faced with two choices for the next day's activities: head north to Caldera and hence to Ald'ruhn, or south towards the village of Pelagiad to fetch Sharn's skull from the Andrano tomb. Since I had a nagging feeling that I really ought to start my pilgrimage for the Temple, and the route to the tomb ran reasonably close to one of the pilgrimage sites, I chose the latter.

The road to Pelagiad led south from Fort Moonmoth through a rocky ravine, far too similar to the Ald'ruhn landscape for my liking. I had intended to turn off at a fork in the path and take the turning for the Fields of Kummu, where there was a holy shrine to Vivec. Unfortunately, with my sketchy knowledge of the route and my difficulty in interpreting the Daedric writing on the signposts, I ended up taking the wrong turning – heading south-west instead of south-east. I didn't fully realise my mistake until, half an hour later, I found myself at a dead end.

By the time I managed to haul myself back out of the ravine and find a signpost, I realised that I was now several miles _south_ of the pilgrimage site. Since turning back would waste time, I'd have to carry on south to the Andrano tomb and visit the shrine on the way back up.

On the plus side, the countryside here was some of the most beautiful I'd ever seen. It reminded me of the Cyrodiil heartlands: leafy and grassy, with patches of wildflowers growing by moss-covered rocks. The only difference was the abundance of huge and colourful mushrooms, as big as trees, dotted around the landscape. I'd entered the region of Vvardenfell known as the Ascadian Isles.

Just as I was about to carry on south, I saw a well-dressed and very pretty Breton woman standing a little way away. At least, she looked like a Breton – Bretons are technically half-elves, but they're so similar to Imperials in appearance that it's often hard to tell them apart. She looked a little lost, and her clothes clearly weren't intended as travelling gear, so I wondered if she was in difficulties of some kind.

"Can I help you?" I called to her, disregarding the fact that I was pretty much lost myself.

She ran over to me, looking a little flustered. "Begging your pardon, but have you seen a bandit nearby? I must find him!"

"A bandit? Have you been attacked?"

She nodded. "Yes. I was just walking along here, minding my own business, when suddenly a bandit jumped at me from behind. He was a Dark Elf." To my surprise, a faint blush spread over her face. "A strong, dashing Dark Elf. He didn't harm me in any way, although he did take my jewels."

"Okay. Well, I can take you as far as Pelagiad," I said. "If you talk to the guards at the fort there, I'm sure – "

"What's that? Oh, never mind the jewels!" She waved a hand dismissively. "I want to find the bandit again!"

"What?"

"He was quite gentle," she said dreamily. "And he talked to me for what seemed like forever. He was charming, and funny, and – "

Oh, sweet Mara. "Are you telling me you've fallen in love with him?!"

"I simply must see him again!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining. "Perhaps you can find him for me? Please, I cannot live without knowing if he could ever love me."

I gaped at her. "Are you mad? No, I will not!"

"Have you no heart?" she said passionately. "No soul? Can you not see that this must be true love?"

"_True love_? With a highway robber you've known for all of three minutes?"

"Not just three minutes!" she protested. "_Much_ longer than that. At least… ten. Anyway, I'm certain he'll want to find me again."

I nodded sagely. "Oh, yes. I'm sure the bandit who swiped your jewels to fund his next skooma hit is just dying to see you again."

She burst into tears. I looked at her in exasperation, wondering why I always seemed to meet the crazy ones. Bretons! They may be wonderful magicians, but they haven't a scrap of common sense between them.

"Look, what's your name?" I asked. "If I happen to come across this bandit – _if_ – I guess I could tell him that you'd like to see him again. But I'm not making any promises."

"Oh, thank you so!" she cried, her tears forgotten. "My name is Maurrie Aurmine, and his is Nelos. Nelos Onmar... a name that will stay on my lips for eternity." I was struggling not to laugh. "Please, if you find him, give him this glove for me as a token of my love."

She pulled off one of her expensive-looking gloves and handed it to me. I forced myself to smile politely and then took my leave of her, shaking my head.

When I reached Pelagiad, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was built in the Imperial village style. Rows of half-timbered houses with thatched roofs lent it a quaintly familiar air. I wasn't really expecting to find the dashing Nelos here – no doubt he was miles away by now – but I decided to ask around in the local tavern and see if anyone recognised the name.

I pushed open the door of the 'Halfway Tavern'. "Excuse me," I said loudly, glancing around the taproom. "I'm looking for a strong, dashing Dark Elf."

This met with appreciative laughter from the other patrons. There weren't many of them at this time of day – apart from the female bartender, there was only one other Dunmer in the place. The others were both outlander women: a Wood Elf and a Khajiit.

The bartender raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. "Well, you could try Yakum," she said, gesturing towards the oddly-dressed man sitting in a corner. "But he's an Ashlander; he doesn't speak Tamrielic very well."

I shook my head. "The one I have business with is named Nelos Onmar."

"Ah, Nelos? Yes, he comes in here now and again. Ahnassi!" she called to the Khajiit woman. "Have you seen Nelos here lately?"

The Khajiit nodded. "Yes, Ahnassi has seen him." (For some reason, Khajiit almost always refer to themselves in the third person.) "He will return… later today, perhaps."

Well, I certainly wasn't going to sit around all day waiting for the guy. I opted to leave for the tomb now and come back a little later.

The Andrano ancestral tomb was a little way south of the village, just off the main road. The glyphs on the door made it clear that this was a burial place, though I couldn't read them. I just hoped I'd come to the right place.

Before entering the tomb, I swapped my usual steel longsword for the enchanted blade which Sharn had given me. It was a short blade, and since I'd trained mainly with longswords, the difference in weight and reach would make it harder to fight with. But enchanted blades were expensive, and this was the best I had – unless I wanted to spend some of my hard-earned Hlaalu cash, which I was saving up to bribe my way back to Cyrodiil.

Inside the tomb, I crept down a narrow, sloping passageway towards a small chamber containing a shrine – and then stopped short when I saw the body of a male warrior lying on the floor below me. He had no obvious injuries, but that just made me even warier, and I listened carefully for the telltale sounds of the undead as I crept down the passageway.

That caution almost certainly saved my life. The moment I drew close enough to see the whole of the chamber, a pale, semi-transparent form lunged at me from the far corner, its skull-like face leering evilly. I leapt back just in time to avoid being hit, and slashed at it ineffectually with my sword. Nothing happened; the blade seemed to pass straight through the ghostly figure without doing any damage.

Deciding that my life was more important than my dignity, I turned and fled. The ghost followed me all the way to the door, shrieking angrily, and I only just managed to avoid the magical curse it flung at me.

Outside in the bright daylight, I paused to recover my breath and my nerve before attempting to tackle the ghost again. Sharn's sword, nice as it was, clearly wasn't going to work against a spirit this powerful. What I needed was a spell scroll.

Although I'd never learned to speak or read more than a few words of Daedric, I had painstakingly taught myself to recognise the letter clusters and pronounce them phonetically. Spell scrolls took the difficulty out of spellcasting by letting you simply read the words off an enchanted scroll, without having to remember the spell or waste magicka. I rooted around in my pack for something that would work against a ghost, and finally dug out a fire spell scroll called 'Taldam's Scorcher' (see what I mean about the silly names)? It was a fairly cheap scroll, but definitely more effective than my own weak fireball spell.

Clutching the scroll in my hand, I re-entered the tomb, where the angry ghost immediately lunged at me. I gabbled off the spell and the spirit vanished in a burst of fire magicka, leaving only a small heap of ectoplasm on the ground. It would be back, of course – you can't kill something that's already dead – but not in the short time I needed to recover Andrano's skull from its crypt.

I was on the watch for more ghosts as I crept through the tomb, but the only other undead I encountered were a few skeleton walkers, which were easy enough to deal with. What really scared me was the tomb itself. The grisly skull decorations and reeking ash-pits strewn with bones were bad enough, but the creepiest thing by far was the _sounds_. I could hear them everywhere, distant footsteps and heavy breathing, and faint, echoing whispers that seemed to come from the walls themselves.

The deeper I went into the tomb, the louder the whispers became, until I could hear them so clearly that I could actually make out the words (though not understand them). Honestly, I couldn't wait to get out of this place – I'd go crazy if I spent much more time in here.

Sharn had described the skull's ritual markings in some detail, so I was able to recognise it when I finally came across it in one of the lower chambers. There was some kind of enchanted dagger lying next to it, but I left that well alone. I was half expecting to be attacked by another angry ghost the moment I picked up the skull, and though nothing actually happened, it didn't stop me from feeling deeply uncomfortable. Apart from anything else, the Gods tended to take a _very_ dim view of this kind of thing – and I didn't want to be refused healing the next time I prayed at a Cult shrine.

"Uh… Arkay?" I mumbled (I never really know what to say when I'm praying). "I'm really sorry about this, okay? But it's all in a good cause. Sort of." Since I was a member of the Temple now, I supposed I ought to pray to Almsivi as well – but I didn't know which of them handled this sort of thing.

I left the tomb as quickly as possible and made my way back to Pelagiad. Nelos still hadn't returned when I got back to the tavern, so I sat down to wait. In the meantime, I bought a meal and struck up a conversation with the Ashlander man whom the bartender had named as Yakum. He smiled a little shyly when I introduced myself.

"Hello, Ada. Yakum greet you. Bless and be blessed. Speak Old Elf, yes, so Yakum learn."

"So you're an Ashlander?" I asked, unsure what else to say. Hasphat had mentioned that the Ashlanders were the natives of Vvardenfell, but I'd never met any before.

He nodded. "You know Ashlanders, yes, a little? We are the People of the Wastes. We hunt and herd guar. No houses, just yurts."

"So why did you leave?" I asked.

Yakum shrugged. "I was a herder, but now I want to become rich, like a great trader. I will live in a town, fight, find treasure, get rich, learn to trade. The soul sickness and blight storms are very bad now in the Ashlands, so I came to Pelagiad."

"'Soul sickness'?"

"There's bad magic in the dust from Red Mountain." His speech was becoming more fluent as he relaxed a little. "The Sharmat Dagoth Ur sends bad dreams in the dust. When I lived in the Ashlands, I got no sleep, had bad dreams, was all the time tired. Now that I'm here in Pelagiad, I sleep fine."

"Hmm." I briefly remembered the dream I'd had the other day, after my trip to Arkngthand. But I hadn't been anywhere near a Blight storm at the time, so that couldn't be it.

A thought struck me. "Yakum, do you know anything about the Nerevarine?"

"Nerevarine?" His brow furrowed. "Yes, Yakum has heard of this. You must speak with Urshikalu."

"Er… Urshikalu?"

"You have map?" I laid it out on the table in front of him. "Urshikalu are here," he said, pointing at a seemingly random spot in the north of the island. "Or here, or here. They are moving, often."

I guessed that 'Urshikalu' was some kind of Ashlander tribe, but the idea of trekking to the far north just to ask them about the Nerevarine was not an appealing one. Still, at least it was a lead of sorts.

At that moment, the door swung open and a young, swarthy-looking Dunmer man entered the tavern. The bartender looked up from the tankards she was polishing, and a grin spread over her face. "Oh, Nelos!" she called. "There's a _lady_ here to see you."

"A lady?" I heard a note of excitement in his voice, but when he turned and saw me, his face fell. "Oh."

"Mr. Onmar? Ada Ventura," I said loudly, ignoring his rudeness. "I'm here on behalf of Maurrie Aurmine. The lady you robbed on the northern highway a few hours ago."

His face lit up again. "Maurrie? Yes, she was a lovely young woman. But… what would she want with a rogue like me?"

"Search me," I said, narrowing my eyes. "But she asked me to give you this glove as a token." I pulled out the now slightly crumpled glove and handed it to him.

Nelos stared at the glove, turning it over in his hands. "How… odd," he murmured. "She is beautiful, though, and seemed sweet. For the first time in my life, I actually felt a little remorse for robbing someone."

"How charming," I said drily. "Maybe you could demonstrate that remorse by returning her jewels to her?"

His dusky skin flushed slightly. "Actually, I'm afraid I've already sold them."

"Ah, such chivalry," I said. "It must be true love."

Nelos continued to gaze at Maurrie's token, oblivious to the sarcasm in my voice. "I must see her again," he said suddenly. "Do you have a quill?"

I lent him my own quill and some paper and ink, wondering where on Nirn this was going. He scrawled out a message to Maurrie and then handed it back to me. "Here, take this. Tell her you have a note from Nelos. I won't forget this, friend."

I left the tavern, still finding it hard to believe I had ended up as a go-between for a bandit and his Breton sweetheart. He wasn't even that good-looking, I thought – at least not to my eyes. Mind you, I'd never really gone for the whole 'ash-grey skin and red demon-eyes' look myself.

Although I don't make a habit of reading other people's private correspondence, I did sneak a look at Nelos' note once I was safely out of sight. I was still highly skeptical about Nelos' sudden 'change of heart', and I didn't want to be responsible for putting Maurrie in danger, silly little airhead that she was. But all it contained was a few sentences praising her beauty, begging her forgiveness for his 'past transgressions', and saying he would come to her 'as soon as I can'.

I found Maurrie exactly where I'd left her, sitting on a rock with her hands clasped around her knees. She must have been there hours, yet she didn't seem troubled by hunger, thirst or heat. I explained what had happened and handed over Nelos' note.

She snatched it out of my hands, read it quickly, and let out a cry of joy. "Wonderful! Thank you so! Oh, I knew that he cared."

"Well, if you go to meet him, just be careful," I warned her, vainly hoping to instil a note of caution in that pretty little head of hers. "Don't let him… take advantage of you."

But she wasn't listening. "You're clearly a wonderful person," she said, enfolding me in a spontaneous hug. "You should visit my friend Barnand Erelie in Tel Branora. He's a wonderful person too, and I think the two of you would get along _famously_."

I gazed after her in disbelief as she all but skipped off down the road towards Pelagiad. Was she trying to set me up with a friend of hers? Still, I supposed it couldn't do any harm, if I ever happened to be passing that way. I just hoped I wouldn't come back to hear that her body had been found in a ditch somewhere.

On my way up towards the Fields of Kummu, I came across yet another young woman standing in the road. She looked far less wealthy than Maurrie, but just as lost. As I approached she called out, "Hello! Please, can you help me?"

I stopped short. "Please don't say you're looking for Nelos Onmar as well!"

"Who?" she asked, with a puzzled frown. "No, I've lost my way, that's all. I cannot find the holy place for which I am searching."

I really wasn't in the mood for escort missions right now. "Well, I don't really know this area myself," I explained. "I was just on my way to the Fields of Kummu – "

"That's it!" she cried in delight. "Perhaps you can help me find it? I can pay you for your time."

Since it wouldn't cost me anything, I agreed to let her come along with me. As we went, the young woman – a Dunmer named Nevrasa Dralor – explained that she too was a pilgrim, and told me the story behind the Kummu shrine.

"It was there that Lord Vivec met a poor farmer whose only guar had died," she said. "This farmer could not harvest his muckspunge without his guar, and could not provide muck for himself or his village. So, the Lord Vivec removed his fine clothes, laid them aside, and toiled in the farmer's fields, acting as a beast of burden until the entire crop was harvested. It is at the Fields of Kummu we go to pray for the same humility Lord Vivec showed on that day."

"What a nice story," I said politely. "Er, what is 'muck'?"

She looked surprised. "Surely you have brought a portion with you to donate to the shrine?"

With a sinking heart, I pulled out my copy of _The Pilgrim's Path_ and turned to the page on the Fields of Kummu shrine. There, at the bottom of the page, it clearly stated that "_It is customary to leave a portion of muck at the shrine to represent Vivec's humility._"

"Damn." I turned to Nevrasa. "I don't suppose you might have some spare…?"

She shook her head. "No, I have only one portion. But there may be mucksponges near the shrine."

Well, I certainly hoped so. I'd be seriously annoyed if I turned out to have dragged myself all the way out here for nothing.

It was early evening when we finally reached the shrine, by the bank of the huge Lake Amaya. Nevrasa thanked me and paid me a very welcome 150 gold for my trouble. "I don't suppose you see any mucksponges round here?" I said hopefully.

She looked out over the lake, nodded suddenly, and pointed to a small island a short way from the shore. Bugger.

I stripped off my armour and plunged into the lake, thankful that I didn't wear my good clothes when out on missions. Unfortunately I'd forgotten that the waters around Morrowind, and indeed in many parts of Cyrodiil, tended to be full of slaughterfish. What was more, when I finally struggled back to the shore with my portion of muck, I found that it was too steep to climb back up. I had to swim quite a way along the bank to a place where it was shallow enough to allow me to climb out.

By the time I limped back to the shrine, soaked and muddy and bleeding from several slaugterfish bites, I felt more like cursing Vivec than praying to him. Nevrasa's look of faint amusement didn't help. "Perhaps you should learn a Water Walking spell," she suggested politely.

Perhaps I should, I thought. That way I could waste all my magicka trying to cast it, and _still_ end up soaked to the skin. (I was in a rather bad mood by this point.)

I dropped my piece of muck in the bowl by the shrine. I don't really know how to describe the stuff, except that it was brown, slimy and… well, _mucky_. Presumably it had some kind of alchemical use, but I wouldn't eat or drink anything made from that stuff if you paid me.

"Thank you for your humility, Lord Vivec," I said, reciting the 'Grace of Humility' written on the shrine. "I shall neither strut nor preen in vanity, but shall know and give thanks for my place in the greater world."

Almost immediately I felt a whole lot lighter – not in a metaphorical sense, but _physically_. My heavy armour and pack suddenly felt almost weightless, as if someone had just lifted them off my shoulders. It took me a couple of seconds to realise that the shrine had cast a Feather spell on me.

"Hey, thanks," I said approvingly. Maybe this pilgrimage business wasn't so bad after all.

Moments later it dawned on me that it was getting dark, and I was stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. By now I was getting pretty tired, and I really didn't fancy making the _long_ trek back to Balmora in the dead of night. I was just debating whether to ask for shelter at the nearby farmhouse, when I remembered the scrolls I'd picked up at the Mages' Guild: Divine Intervention and Almsivi Intervention. I'd been told that travellers lost in the wilderness could use them to reach safety.

I hesitated for a moment before picking the Almsivi scroll pretty much at random. There was that familiar teleportation sound and sensation of lightness, and before I knew what was happening, I was standing in the courtyard of the Balmora Temple.

Wow. I really had to get more of those scrolls.

I hurried over to the Mages' Guild in the hope of catching Sharn before she went to bed. "Special delivery," I announced loudly, as I marched into the secluded corner where she sat writing at her desk. "One Dunmer enchanter's skull for Sharn gra-Muzgob."

Sharn, who hadn't heard me approach, nearly jumped out of her skin. "Be _quiet_, will you?" she hissed. "You have the skull, then? Very good. Just let me finish writing these notes for Caius."

I handed over the skull and waited for her to finish writing. Just as she laid down her quill and stood up, my eye fell on a book stuffed into a corner of a half-opened alchemy chest. _Legions of the Dead_? I'd seen that a dozen times in necromancers' hideouts.

"So, Sharn," I said, trying to keep a straight face. "Are you _sure_ you're not a necromancer?"

She threw up her hands. "How many times do I have to tell you that the answer is _no_! I am not a necromancer!"

"So… why do you have a copy of _Legions of the Dead_?"

"How did you – " She followed my gaze to the open chest. "Drat. Oh, all right, I admit it: I'm a necromancer. What are you going to do, report me to the Temple? Er… please don't report me to the Temple," she added hastily. "Do you know what they _do_ to necromancers in Morrowind?"

I didn't, but given the general Dunmer attitude towards their departed ancestors, I could well imagine. "Okay, fine," I said with a sigh. "I won't tell anyone your secret."

"_Thank_ you," she said, with immense relief. "Would you like me to teach you some necromancy spells?"

"Er, no thanks, I – "

"No, let me," she begged. "I can teach you the Summon Ancestral Ghost spell, if you like. Or would you prefer Summon Skeletal Minion?"

"Whichever." I had no intention of ever using either spell, given that I knew even less about Conjuration than I did about any of the other magical disciplines. Knowing me, I'd probably get it horribly wrong and end up summoning Sheogorath or something.

Sharn gave me the instructions for a summoning spell, and also some notes on the Nerevarine cult for Caius. "This Ashlander cult believes the long-dead hero Nerevar will be reborn to honour ancient promises to the tribes," she explained. "According to legend, the prophesied Nerevarine will cast down the false gods of the Tribunal Temple, restore the traditional ancestor worship practiced by the Ashlanders, and drive all outlanders from Morrowind. Both Temple and Empire outlaw the cult, but it still persists among the Ashlanders."

I glanced at Sharn's notes. They were a lot longer and more detailed than the ones given to me by Hasphat – in fact, they were so long that I couldn't be bothered to read through them properly. To tell the truth, I really wasn't all that interested in the Nerevarine and all the things he was prophesised to do. The only thing that caught my eye was a reference to a prophecy called 'The Stranger', written in the form of a poem:

_THE STRANGER_

_When earth is sundered, and skies choked black,  
And sleepers serve the seven curses,  
To the hearth there comes a stranger,  
Journeyed far 'neath moon and star._

_Though stark-born to sire uncertain  
His aspect marks his certain fate.  
Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him.  
Prophets speak, but all deny._

_Many trials make manifest  
The stranger's fate, the curses' bane.  
Many touchstones try the stranger  
Many fall, but one remains._

Not exactly the best poetry I'd ever read, but no doubt it lost something in translation. Anyway, Caius would certainly be pleased.

That night, as I was walking to Caius' house to deliver the notes, something very weird happened. I was just coming to the bridge when a Dunmer man in a green robe approached me, catching me by the sleeve. I tried to pull away from him, but he clung on with surprising strength.

"I am a Sleeper," he intoned. "One among thousands. I bring you a message. Dagoth Ur calls you, Ada, and you cannot deny your Lord. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory."

"What?" I asked in astonishment, mildly disturbed that he seemed to know my name. "The Sixth House is risen?"

He nodded. "The Sixth House, the Sleeping House, House Dagoth, the House of Lord Dagoth. The true house, the one house to welcome all true Dunmer, and drive the _n'wah_ from our land." That word again!

Once more I tried to shake myself free, but he was still clutching my sleeve. There was a glazed look in his eyes; if he hadn't been speaking to me so clearly, I would have thought he was sleepwalking. Was he drunk? Drugged?

"Take heed, outlander," he growled. "The day of reckoning is at hand. Take what you can, and leave our place, for when Lord Dagoth comes, this will be no place for you."

"Right. Well, thanks for the warning." I wrenched my sleeve from his grasp and hurried on my way, slightly creeped out. Crazy guy.

Once I had delivered the notes to Caius, and been rewarded with a promotion to Blades Apprentice, I explained to him that I didn't feel quite ready to undertake any more Blades missions yet. That encounter with the ghost had reminded me that while I was pretty good against mortal opponents, I needed more practice – or better equipment – before trying to tackle the undead. He seemed to understand.

"Yes, I'd like to see you at a higher level of conditioning before sending you out again," he said. "So take some time to polish your skills and enhance your cover story with a little freelance adventuring. When you've gotten some exercise and loot, come back, and I'll have some new orders for you."

I was all too ready to obey. I'd spent the best part of a week chasing around the countryside at the behest of one guild or another, and I was downright exhausted. So I went to the Eight Plates, hired a room for two nights, and spent almost the whole of the next day in bed.


	7. Chapter 7: Indecent Exposure

**Chapter 7: Indecent Exposure**

I took the Guild guide to Caldera the next morning. Like Pelagiad, it was a newly-chartered settlement built in the Imperial style. The town was set in a region called the West Gash, which was somewhere between Ald'ruhn and the southern regions in terms of landscape: not as dry and dusty as the Ashlands, but not as green and leafy as the Ascadian Isles.

As I was walking out to the mines, something very strange occurred. I spotted a figure up ahead, by a crossroads, who looked for all the world like he wasn't wearing any clothes. As I drew closer I realised that the figure was a male Nord, and that he was, indeed, stark naked.

Now, I'd met a few Nords in my time whom I wouldn't have minded seeing naked. In fact, there were one or two whom I _had _seen naked, and been very happy about it (just don't tell my parents). This guy was not one of them. He was middle-aged, hairy, and possessed of numerous colourful tattoos which did _not_ enhance his beauty.

He called out to me as I approached, not seeming at all embarrassed. "Hail and well met, stranger! As ye can plainly see, I require some assistance, if ye be kind enough to grant it."

From his heavy accent and dialect I guessed him to be a native of Skyrim, rather than Cyrodiil or some other part of the Empire. "Here, take this," I murmured, handing him one of my spare shirts from my pack while trying not to look at his groin area. "No, don't try to _wear_ it – it's much too small. Just … wrap it around yourself or something."

"Thank ye," he said agreeably, tying the shirt around his mid-section. I wouldn't be asking for that one back. "Now, I need help finding the festering witch who has robbed me blind and left me for dead."

"A witch?"

He nodded. "A witch she had to be. I was on my way to Caldera when I met her. She was a stranger here like myself, and she was quite friendly, and, well, y'know, we set up camp together."

"Yes, I get the idea…"

"But that night," he went on, "she revealed the witch inside. Cast a spell on me. I couldn't so much as blink! Stole everything, even me worn out clothes, but most importantly, she took my prized axe Cloudcleaver!" He clapped a meaty hand on my shoulder. "Join with me, stranger! And let's find her and extract her entrails together!"

I looked at him in exasperation. "But I'm here on a job! Oh, all _right_," I sighed reluctantly, seeing the anguished look on his face. "But you'll have to wait until I finish my mission for the Fighters' Guild."

He nodded enthusiastically. "I knew you had the bloodlust in you, stranger! Just… try to hurry up, will ye? It's a bit chilly today."

I eventually found the Telvanni agents holed up in a cave not far from the mines. Not being trained fighters, they didn't pose much of a challenge, and the fight was nasty but short. No doubt the Thieves' Guild would be pissed off with me if they found out what had happened, but if they were hiring themselves out to the Telvanni as saboteurs, they had only themselves to blame.

Afterwards I rejoined my Nord friend, whose name turned out to be Hlormar. "Onward, friend!" he cried. "We must find this witch before she moves again. I can feel Cloudcleaver calling out to me to rescue it from the clutches of evil!"

We set off down a path leading north-west, which was the way Hlormar thought the witch had gone. After walking for some time, I spotted a robed woman off in the distance. Hlormar let out a roar. "That's her! That's the witch!"

We ran off in pursuit of the woman, who turned and stared at the sound of Hlormar's angry voice. "Oh. It's you."

"Excuse me!" I panted, somewhat out of breath. "My friend Hlormar here claims that you stole his axe."

She let out a bark of laughter. "Ha! A right funny story that one is! Tell me, did he inform you that his name is actually 'Hlormar Wine-Sot'?"

"Oh?"

"The true story," she explained, "is that I took Hlormar on as a travelling companion for protection. Along the way he was getting entirely too friendly for his own good, so I had to cast a sleep spell on him. Just to teach him a lesson in manners, I stripped him and left him by the road." Her lips curled slightly. "And to be sure he didn't come after me for retribution, I took that Cloudcleaver he's always fawning over as well."

This drew a cry of rage from Hlormar. "Lying witch! Are you going to help me, friend, or are you believing the lies spilling out of that witch's face?"

I looked from one to the other, and threw up my hands in despair. "Sort it out for yourselves! I'm not getting involved." I walked off, leaving them yelling at each other. Sheesh!

Since I was already part-way there, I decided to walk the rest of the way to Ald'ruhn. Unfortunately I had rather misjudged the distance, and it ended up taking a lot longer than I had expected. If I hadn't had the sense to bring food and water with me, I don't know what kind of state I'd have been in by the time I reached the city.

Coming into the Ashlands region, I rounded a corner and stopped short, struck by a powerful sense of what the Bretons call _déjà vu_. There in the middle of the road, a short way ahead, stood yet another axe-wielding Nord man – tall, hefty, bearded, and completely naked. Actually, I tell a lie: this one wasn't _completely_ naked. He wore leather boots, gauntlets, and some kind of fur helmet.

I blinked a couple of times, wondering whether I really was going mad. Had I been starved of male companionship for so long that I was starting to hallucinate naked men everywhere I went? If so, you'd have thought they'd be a little more attractive.

As I walked up to the man, I could see that he was looking extremely angry. "You!" he roared. "You will speak with me now, or you shall feel the bite of my axe!"

I raised my eyebrows. "Yeah, OK. You might want to put some clothes on first."

"Grrrrrrr." The Nord ground his teeth. "When this enchantment wears off, Hisin Deep-Raed will shed some blood!"

"Enchantment?" I clasped my hand to my forehead. "Don't tell me. You ran into a witch, right?"

"That I did," he admitted, calming down slightly. "That foul witch has given me some enchanted disease, leaving me rooted to this spot! She called it Witchwither."

I couldn't suppress a choke of laughter. "Well, with a name like that, I guess it could have been worse…"

"Foul temptress!" he snarled. For a moment I thought he was addressing me; then I realised he meant the witch. "I had been her escort; she was a big woman, friendly... you know. Then the damned witch ensorcelled me – leaving me at this spot, nearly naked, to display my shame to the world!"

"Okay, calm down," I said, fighting a powerful urge to giggle. "Let's see what we can do about this. You say she gave you some kind of disease?"

He nodded. "Well, I'm not much of a spellcaster," I went on, "but I might have a Cure Disease potion here somewhere. Just let me take a look." I managed to resist the temptation to ask him exactly _how_ he had contracted the disease; that would have been a little too cruel.

Hisin looked gratified, and a little surprised. "You have honour, stranger," he acknowledged. "I am a man of standing among my people. My father and my father's father, and his father before him, have had songs sung of their deeds, and I shall be no different! Treat me fairly, and I will reward you."

Once again I found myself struggling not to giggle. "Well… let's hope this _particular_ deed doesn't end up in the songbooks, hmm?"

I managed to find a Cure Common Disease potion in my pack; it was one of the ones I'd purchased from Aurane Frernis in Vivec. I had to hold it to Hisin's lips for him to drink, as he was completely unable to move. As he gulped it down, I saw the rigid muscles in his arms and chest relax slightly.

"Yes, yes!" he cried. "I'm free of this enchantment! Hisin Deep-Raed calls you friend, er…"

"Ada."

He removed the fur helmet from his head. "Take this, my family's helm, Icecap. It was worn by my father, and his father, and his father before – "

"Yes, I get the picture," I interrupted hastily. The helmet stank of sweat and unwashed barbarian, but I could see the faint glow that indicated an enchantment. "Is that a Resist Frost enchantment on it?"

He nodded. "It will protect you from the coldest of nights. Wear it with honour. And now, I must go kill that witch!"

I caught him by the arm as he was about to run off. "Um, Hisin?" I held out another of my shirts to him. "Perhaps you'd like to, er, cover yourself a bit first?"

Hisin's face turned several shades redder. He snatched the shirt from me without a word and tied it round himself, before stomping off down the southern path. "Filthy witch!" I heard him growl to himself. "I'll feed her entrails to the nix-hounds!"

I walked on, shaking my head. Akatosh, what was it with all these Nord barbarians getting seduced and robbed by witches? I'd have to hope I would get to Ald'ruhn before I ran into any more of them, not least because I was starting to run out of shirts.

To my immense relief, I didn't come across any more naked Nords (or anyone else) on my journey to Ald'ruhn. It was late afternoon when I finally arrived, and the sun was still high in the sky. I had to admit that the place didn't look quite as bad in bright sunlight, but there was still a thick coating of ash over the parched ground. Dunmer children jumped around in the dust and threw handfuls at each other, while older residents stood outside their doors, sweeping it into neat little piles.

Before going to Skar, I decided to pay a visit to the Ald'ruhn Fighters' Guild to repair my weapons and armour. In the lower hall I was greeted by an intelligent-looking Imperial, probably in his early fifties, who introduced himself as Percius Mercius.

"I used to be the Master of the Fighters Guild," he told me. "But I took the opportunity to retire here in Ald'ruhn. The current Guildmaster is Sjoring Hard-Heart, over in Vivec."

Ald'ruhn certainly wasn't the place I'd have chosen to retire to, but each to his own, I guess. When I explained that I was a member of the Balmora guild, Percius raised his eyebrows. "Working for Eydis, are you? Well, if you need any advice on orders you've been given – anything that seems out of the ordinary to you – let me know. I'm more than willing to help out."

My mind flashed back to the Caldera mine mission and Sottilde's codebook. "Okay, thanks. I will."

"Things have really gone bad since I was the Master of the Guild," he said with a sigh. "Sure, Sjoring's a good fighter, no one disputes that. But I've heard – " He stopped suddenly.

"What have you heard?"

Percius shook his head. "I've said too much already. Maybe when you've proven yourself we can talk again."

I got the distinct feeling that whatever he had to say, I wasn't going to like it. Gods, I _hate_ Guild politics.

It was getting a little late to be heading over to the clothier's store, and I didn't want to arouse any suspicions, so I stayed the night in the Guild building. Sleeping there for the first time was a rather strange experience, as – like most buildings in Ald'ruhn – it was mostly built underground. I kept worrying that I'd run out of air and suffocate, until I remembered that I'd slept in caves plenty of times with no ill effects.

The next morning I hurried over to Skar, anxious to get my mission over with as soon as possible. Was it my imagination, or did the patrolling guards look even less friendly than they had on my previous visit? It had to be the former, but that did little to reduce my paranoia.

My fears turned out to be groundless, as the meeting with Bivale Teneran went very smoothly. She was alone when I entered her shop, so I simply handed over the scroll to her. "Yes, as I expected," she said, after a quick glance at it. "Tell Nileno Dorvayn that I received the scroll and understood the message. Oh, and why not take this outfit?"

She handed me an exquisitely-tailored shirt and pants. I stared at them in amazement, scarcely able to believe that she would just give away these lovely clothes. "For… for _me_? Really?"

"Of course," she said, smiling. "A present for my efficient courier."

"Wow. That's… really kind of you," I stammered. "Thanks ever so much."

As I was walking back to the bridge after leaving the store, I saw a Redguard woman walking in the other direction. It was Neminda, the Redoran retainer whose orders I'd intercepted during my first Hlaalu assignment. There was no way for me to avoid her, and I very nearly panicked – until I realised that there was no possible way for her to recognise me or guess what I'd been doing here.

"Greetings, stranger," she said with a friendly nod. "Nice to see another human in Ald'ruhn. Are you new here?"

I nodded. "Just arrived in Morrowind a week ago."

For a moment I was afraid that she would recognise my voice, but if she did, there was no sign of it. She simply held out a hand in greeting. "I'm Neminda, a drillmaster for House Redoran."

"Ada Ventura, of Imperial City." I tried to think of something else to say, but my mind had gone blank. "So, uh… you're a Redoran?"

"That's right," she said with a smile. "We are true and noble warriors, the hereditary defenders of Morrowind. Were you thinking of joining the House? You look like a fighter."

"I can't," I said, with genuine regret. "I've already joined House Hlaalu, I'm afraid." I was beginning to wish I'd taken the time to do some research into the Great Houses, rather than blithely signing up with Hlaalu the moment I arrived in Balmora. From what I heard of Redoran, it sounded like it might have suited me rather better, but it was too late now.

Neminda arched her eyebrows, and while she refrained from commenting, I could see that I'd sunk a couple of notches in her estimation. "I see," she said, in a voice that was still polite, but a little less friendly. "Well, no matter. Enjoy your stay in Ald'ruhn, _sera_."

She went on her way, and I hurried back to the Mages' Guild, relieved that I seemed to have got away with my little impersonation. Even so, I had no intention of staying any more nights in Ald'ruhn – no doubt Neminda was aware of the trick played on her by now, and you never knew when she might suddenly make the connection.

When I got back to Nileno Dorvayn, I found her looking somewhat harassed. "Ah, Ada!" she exclaimed. "Have you delivered the scroll? Good. I'm promoting you to Retainer, effective immediately."

"Oh. Thanks," I said, a little surprised by her abrupt manner. "Is something the matter, Nileno?"

She let out an exasperated sigh, massaging her temples with her fingers. "A Hlaalu noble has just been murdered."

"Murdered!"

She nodded. "Ralen Hlaalo was a noble who lived here in Balmora. Here, take this key and go to Hlaalo manor." Her expression was grim. "When you find out who murdered Ser Ralen, _kill them_. Make sure no ever dares raise their hand against a Hlaalu noble again!"

Thus I found myself playing detective for the second time in little more than a week. I wasn't complaining, though; it made a nice change from spying, looting ancestral tombs, and other assorted skulduggery.

Ralen's body was still lying on the floor of Hlaalo manor when I entered; he must have been killed only hours earlier. Needless to say, the place was a mess. A pool of congealed, sticky blood surrounded poor Ralen – who, from the look of him, appeared to have been attacked with an axe or something similar. He lay on his back, his white face gazing up at the ceiling with blank, sightless eyes.

I couldn't see anyone else around, though overturned furniture and smashed crockery suggested that some kind of fight had taken place. Surely there had to be witnesses? I found it hard to believe that a struggle like that could have taken place without anyone seeing or hearing anything.

I bent over the young man's body, searching for clues, and looked up to see a middle-aged Dunmer woman watching me from the foot of the stairs. When I straightened up, she gripped her skirts nervously and retreated a couple of steps. "It's OK," I told her. "I'm a member of your House, here to investigate the murder."

After a brief hesitation, she nodded and beckoned me closer. "It's just terrible," she whispered. "Ralen Hlaalo employed me for years. What will I do now?"

"Could you give me a description of the murderer?"

She nodded, her eyes darting nervously around the room as if she feared that someone might hear us. "I saw him with my own eyes. He was a young Dunmer with red hair in a tall row over his head, as is fashionable these days. He wore bonemold armour and wielded a Dwemer War Axe."

"Any idea who he was?"

Another brief pause. "No, I do not know more than that. I am sorry."

The slight hesitation, combined with her reluctance to meet my gaze, was enough to tell me that she was lying. Clearly she did have at least an idea who the murderer was, but was too afraid to tell me. Given that she'd just seen her employer hacked to death with an axe, I couldn't entirely blame her.

"I'll find the guy," I promised. "Don't worry."

She gulped and nodded. "I wish you luck."

I spent the next hour or so asking around town to see if anyone recognised the description, but it was hopeless. I saw clear signs of recognition in the faces of several of the Dunmer I spoke to, but when I pressed them for information, they all insisted that they didn't know anyone who looked like that. Finally, in despair, I went to the Fighters' Guild in hopes that someone there might be willing to talk.

After collecting my pay from Eydis, and picking up my next orders – some sort of debt-collection job in a town called Suran – I asked various Guild members whether they knew any red-haired Dunmer men. I wasn't too hopeful, but rather to my surprise, an Imperial woman named Flaenia seemed to recognise the description. "Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "That sounds like Thanelen Velas over at the Council Club."

The Council Club! Well, that certainly explained why everyone had been so reluctant to identify the guy – he was Camonna Tong, of course. I should have guessed.

After turning it over in my mind for a while, I decided to enter the Council Club, but with extreme caution. I was well aware that one false move could leave me with an axe embedded in my own skull. As luck would have it, the first person I met there precisely matched the murderer's description, and was alone. He was sitting on a small table, staring absently into the distance while chewing on some kind of leaf.

I waved a hand in front of his face. "Excuse me. Are you Thanelan Velas?"

The man folded his arms and looked me over for several seconds, his expression clearly showing that he wasn't impressed. Finally he said, "What's it to you?"

"I represent House Hlaalu," I told him. "A Hlaalu noble was murdered last night, and you fit the murderer's description."

Rather than getting angry or defensive, the man just shrugged, a bored look on his face. "You are mistaken. It was Nine-Toes who killed him."

Hang on, 'Nine-Toes'? Apart from the fact that that was clearly an Argonian name, I was pretty sure he was one of the Blades trainers that Caius had recommended to me.

"So Nine-Toes is a red-haired Dunmer, is he?" I asked. "Because the witness I spoke to was pretty clear about that part."

"And who was the witness?"

"I'm not telling you," I said. "All you need to know is that they saw you leaving the house after the murder."

Thanelan was too smart to fall for this, however. "Well, they cannot have seen me, because I was not there."

"Why did you kill him, Thanelan?" I said quietly. "Was it over money? A woman?"

A brief flash of rage in Thanelan's eyes told me that I had hit very close to home; however, he wasn't about to give up so easily. He slid off the table and stood up, looking me directly in the face.

"I did not kill him, outlander," he said, slowly and clearly, as if talking to a child. "It was the Argonian, Nine-Toes."

We faced off for several seconds, doing our best to outstare each other. I was almost sure that he was the killer, but what could I do? I had no proof. If I attacked him on the spot, I'd be arrested for murder myself – not to mention that he probably had friends down below who'd come running at the first sign of trouble.

"All right," I said at last. "I'll carry on gathering evidence. Don't go anywhere in the meantime, will you?"

His only answer was a snort. As I turned to leave, gripping the hilt of my sword, I heard him mutter, "_N'wah_".

Gritting my teeth, I went back to Nileno, who was busy with some kind of paperwork. I got the impression that the Hlaalu councillors often left her to handle tasks they should really be doing themselves. "Yes, what is it?" she said irritably. "Have you found the murderer yet?"

"Yes, I think so," I said. "He's a Camonna Tong member named Thanelan Velas."

"And is he dead?"

"No."

"Well, _why not_?"

"He's _Camonna Tong_," I hissed. "What am I supposed to do, wipe out the entire Council Club? Besides, I don't have any actual proof."

Nileno flung down her quill in exasperation. "Then _find _some proof," she growled. "Or find another way to kill him. Or bribe a guard. But whatever you do, Ada, I want Ralen's murder avenged_._ Do I make myself clear?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her why the hell she didn't just kill him herself if she thought it was that easy. Somehow, sanity prevailed and I forced myself to remain calm. "All right, I'll try," I said grudgingly. "But it may take a while."

She shrugged and went back to her paperwork. I left the hall, barely resisting the urge to slam the door behind me.

Since I couldn't immediately think of a way to deal with Thanelan, I instead went to Vivec to look for a bank. By now I had far too much money to simply carry around with me, and my current solution – keeping it locked in a chest in the Fighter's Guild – was not a particularly good one. After finding a place to deposit my gold, I visited an enchanter in the Foreign Quarter to pick up more spell scrolls, and was just preparing to leave when I heard a loud commotion outside.

"What's that?" I asked. "Why all the shouting?"

Miun-Gei, the Argonian enchanter, scowled darkly. "That annoying fool! Did you not see him as you entered? It is that Marcel Maurard. Outside my shop he stands all day, selling ridiculous wares." He sighed. "Get rid of him I would like to, but the law says he is within his rights. Perhaps you might find a way?"

I considered this for a minute. The silt strider to Suran didn't leave until evening, so I didn't exactly have a whole lot else to do right now. "I suppose I could try."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Make him go away, and I will have rewards for you!"

I went outside, where Marcel Maurard – a handsome but rather effeminate-looking Breton – was hawking his wares to largely uninterested passers-by. "Excuse me," I said. "Would you mind doing that somewhere else? You're scaring people away from Miun-Gei's shop."

"Leave here? I could not! It is the finest spot in all Vivec from which to sell my wares. Otherwise, I'd have nothing upon which to support myself." He heaved a melodramatic sigh. "A man in my line of work must find a way to make a living!"

"And what line of work is that?"

"I am an actor!" (He pronounced it 'ac-tor', with emphasis on the 'or'.) "Or at least I hope to be. I am the poor player who struts and frets for a while on a stage and then has lunch. I am full of sound and furiousness! Oh, if there were but a good theatre troupe in this town, I could give up selling these baubles. Oh! Woe is me!"

I nearly burst out laughing. Was this guy serious? "Well, I'll see if I can find one for you."

"Oh, to be an actor," I heard him murmur, as I walked away. "To act, perchance to earn some money!"

After asking around about the theatre scene in Vivec, I was directed to Crassius Curio, a noble in the Hlaalu canton. Apparently he was quite a patron of the arts, and was currently looking for actors to star in his new play. I took a gondola to the Hlaalu canton, which was all but identical to the Foreign Quarter, complete with those scary-looking Ordinators around every corner. How the people of Vivec could stand to have those guys watching their every move was beyond me.

I was a little apprehensive about marching into Curio's splendid top-tier mansion and asking to see him, but when I explained that I was a member of House Hlaalu, things went pretty smoothly. A Dunmer servant directed me to Curio, who was 'busy with his writing' in his room below. In hindsight, I guess I should have found it a little strange that he chose to receive visitors in his _bedroom_.

The moment I saw Crassius Curio, I felt that there was something faintly sleazy about him. He was almost a stereotypical Imperial noble, decked out in elegant Western-style clothes and jewels that were perhaps a little _too_ flamboyant. I stiffened a little at the wolfish grin he shot me when I entered the room, but I was determined not to let it bother me.

"Crassius Curio?" I asked, looking him straight in the eye.

"Yes, I'm Crassius Curio," he said with a smile. "But you can call me 'Uncle Crassius'." _Uncle Crassius_?

"I heard you were looking for actors for a theatre troupe," I said, trying to ignore the 'Uncle Crassius' remark.

His eyes lit up. "A company of players, yes! But there are so few in the area that are willing to act, even for a good price. I need an actor with wit, grace, charm, and a firm...oh, never mind." His eyes roved over me in a way that made me feel deeply uncomfortable. "You wouldn't be a bad choice, muffin."

"_Me_?" I said in alarm. "I can't act!"

"Ah, well," he sighed. "If you see someone else who fits the bill, send them to Uncle Crassius."

"Actually, I _do_ know someone who might be interested," I said, and gave him a brief description of Marcel Maurard.

'Uncle Crassius' nodded thoughtfully when I'd finished. "Yes, he sounds exactly right for my new play, _The Lusty Argonian Maid_. A rather bawdy tale, but I think it will play well with the people." He gave me another of those rather disconcerting smiles. "You do like plays, don't you, pumpkin?"

"I love plays," I admitted. I'd often snuck out to see plays when I lived in the Imperial City, particularly the ones that my parents didn't think were 'suitable'. "In fact, I had an idea for a play once."

"_Did_ you indeed?" His eyes sparkled with amusement. "And what was your idea?"

"Well…" I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to share it with him.

"Come on, sweetie, don't be shy."

I hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Well, there are these two noble families that have been feuding for generations. Say… one from House Hlaalu and one from House Redoran." He nodded. "Anyway, a boy from the Hlaalu family falls in love with a girl from the Redoran family. But of course, their parents won't hear of it."

"Ah, forbidden love!" he exclaimed. "Do go on."

"So they marry in secret," I continued, warming to my theme. "But then, the man accidentally kills another Redoran in a fight, and has to flee the city."

Crassius' eyes widened. "My goodness! What happens next?"

"Well, in the meantime, the girl's parents have arranged a marriage for her. But of course, she can't tell them that she's already married. So she goes to the local alchemist, and buys a potion that'll make her _appear_ to be dead – "

"Ah, I see it now!" he breathed. "The fair Dunmer maiden, swept off her feet by the handsome Crellius… Caro, mad with despair – "

"Well. Um." I hesitated. "I suppose the hero _could_ be an Imperial. But… I think it would be more effective if they were both Dunmer."

"But it all ends happily, of course?" he continued, appearing not to hear.

I took a deep breath. "Actually… I was planning to have both of them die at the end. You see, the point is – "

"Oh, but you _can't_ have a sad ending, poppet!" He shook his head, chuckling. "Got to give the punters what they want, eh? No, I'll tell you what happens: The girl has a saucy Argonian maid – or maybe a Khajiit – who carries her messages to her lover. When he hears about the marriage and the potion, he returns to the city in disguise. Then all you need is a few more misunderstandings, a mix-up with a false moustache, feuding parents see the error of their ways, and all ends happily. Much better, don't you think?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. "I… suppose so."

"I shall start work on it at once," he declared. "That is, once I've finished _The Lusty Argonian Maid_. Here, take a look at the work so far – I think it's scrumptious!" He pressed a copy into my hands before I had time to answer.

I dutifully opened the manuscript at a random page and glanced at the dialogue inside. It showed an excerpt from 'Act IV, Scene III':

_Lifts-Her-Tail: Certainly not, kind sir! I am here but to clean your chambers._

_Crantius Colto: Is that all you have come here for, little one? My chambers?_

_Lifts-Her-Tail: I have no idea what it is you imply, master. I am but a poor Argonian maid._

_Crantius Colto: So you are, my dumpling. And a good one at that. Such strong legs and shapely tail. _

_Lifts-Her-Tail: You embarrass me, sir! _

_Crantius Colto: Fear not. You are safe here with me. _

_Lifts-Her-Tail: I must finish my cleaning, sir. The mistress will have my head if I do not! _

_Crantius Colto: Cleaning, eh? I have something for you. Here, polish my spear. _

_Lifts-Her-Tail: But it is huge! It could take me all night! _

_Crantius Colto: Plenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time.  
_

Yes. Well. I probably wouldn't be rushing to see that one on opening night.

"I think it's _marvellous_," I told him, anxious to make my escape. "But I really have to go now. I'm sure Mr. Maurard will be delighted to hear you have a place for him."

"Goodbye, my little sweetroll," he said, with a wink. "Remember: Be sweet to Uncle Crassius, and there's something in it for you, sweetcakes."

Ye gods, this guy was creepy even by the standards of theatrical types. Just talking to him left me feeling like I needed a long bath. I left the place hoping fervently that I'd never have to see him again, play or no play. Oh, if I'd only known…


	8. Chapter 8: Larrius Varro's Little Story

**Chapter 8: Larrius Varro's Little Story**

Marcel Maurard was delighted when I returned to him with the news about Crassius's new play. "Then I must go to see the noble patron!" he cried. "Thank you my friend; you will not be forgotten! Yes, yes! The play's the thing, wherein I'll catch the purse strings of... that guy!"

The enchanter Miun-Gei seemed equally happy to be rid of the tiresome Breton. "You've done it! I admire your persuasiveness, friend. Allow me to give you this as a token of my appreciation."

To my astonishment, he handed me what appeared to be an enchanted _spear_. I blinked. "This? Really? Seriously, a couple of free scrolls would be fine..."

"No, no, take it!" he insisted. "It has a Shock enchantment. Very useful."

I wasn't entirely sure what to say. The truth was that I had no skill at all with spears, and it was far too large and heavy to just carry around in my pack. I could sell it, since it was obviously valuable, but I didn't want to do that in Vivec in case Miun-Gei got to hear of it and was offended. So I ended up having to take the damn thing with me on the silt strider to Suran.

Suran was a small coastal town built in the same style as Balmora. It wasn't too far from Vivec, so I arrived there in time for a late supper, but it was too late to tackle my Fighters' Guild assignment – or at least, I thought it was. My 'target' was a woman named Helviane Desele, who owed some money to a Fighter's Guild client. For some reason everyone kept sniggering when I asked where she could be found; it wasn't until the next morning, when I arrived at 'Desele's House of Earthly Delights' and saw the red light outside the building, that I realised it was _that_ kind of establishment.

There weren't many 'clients' inside at that time of day, of course, but somehow that just made it seem even more tawdry. The barmaids were all topless, wearing only skirts and a skimpy undergarment, and the three female dancers – all humans, I noticed – wore almost nothing at all. I wondered just how desperate I would have to get before I'd consider going into that line of work – not that anyone would ever be likely to hire me, of course.

I was surprised to discover that one of the shirtless barmaids was in fact Desele herself. She greeted me politely, while obviously a little confused as to what I was doing there. "Welcome to my house, Imperial. Make yourself at home."

"I'm not here for pleasure, I'm afraid," I told her. "Could we talk in private for a few minutes?"

She nodded and led me to an upstairs room, where I got straight down to business: "I'm from the Fighters' Guild. I'm told you owe money to our client, Manos Othreleth."

I hadn't exactly expected a warm welcome, but neither had I expected the look of outright fury that flashed across Desele's face. "Oh, that's it, is it?" she snapped. "I try and run a respectable business and the Camonna Tong keeps asking for this money 'for my safety'. Well, I'm not paying it!"

"Whoa! Hold on!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Are you telling me this guy is _Camonna Tong_?"

Desele nodded, grinding her teeth. " 'For my safety', indeed. What is it really for? To keep me safe from Orvas Dren's thugs, that's what it's for!"

I had no idea how to respond. If she was telling the truth – and she certainly seemed genuinely angry – why on Nirn were we taking contracts from the Camonna Tong? I hadn't joined the Guild to end up working as an enforcer for the local crimelords. Did Eydis _know_ about this? And if so, what the hell was going on?

I remembered what Percius Mercius had said to me about things having 'gone bad' in the Guild under the new Guildmaster. Suddenly I was starting to see what he meant. The only option I could think of was to go to him and ask his advice on this contract, as he had suggested.

"Okay," I said at last. "I'll go check up on this, and if you're right… well, I'm sure it's just some sort of misunderstanding. Sorry to bother you."

Desele merely huffed and returned to her place behind the bar. Making to leave, I nearly tripped over the legs of a man who sat slumped in a chair, clutching a mug of ale. He was clearly extremely drunk, and from the look of him he'd probably been there all night.

"Well, hey there," he mumbled, giving me a little wave. "S'fine place this is, huh? Good place for me to jusht forget about my troubles. No use thinking about them. Stupid slaves. Why they gotta run, huh?"

I'd been planning to just ignore him and walk on, but those last few words caught my attention. "What was that about slaves?"

"Bah! I hate 'em all." He took a long swig from his tankard. " 'Specially the ones I can't find, know what I mean? Been looking for this one, Haj-Ei, for months now. Can't find him, though. Always running and hiding. Running and hiding."

From this rather confused narrative, I gathered that he was a hunter of escaped slaves, and that he hadn't had any luck tracking down the one he was currently looking for. Needless to say, I didn't have a lot of sympathy for him. I was about to walk away in disgust when I suddenly realised that if I could find this slave 'Haj-Ei' myself, I might be able to help him escape.

"Poor you," I said, trying my best to sound sympathetic. "Do tell me all about it."

"How's a man supposed to earn his keep? I'll tell you how! Running and looking, that's how." He took another swig. "Even got myself a guide, I did – good ol' Hides His Eyes. Kind of a stupid name if you ask me. Anyway, he's been showing me around here for a couple of weeks – fat load of good that's done me!"

Hang on. This guy was hunting an Argonian slave, and he was being helped by another Argonian? It was possible, I guess – it's astonishing what people will do for money – but something about it didn't sound right. "And where is this 'Hides-His-Eyes' now?" I asked, as casually as possible.

"Seems to like the tradehouse in town," he said, shrugging. "I'm happier in this place. Another drink here!"

I left him to his ale and went to the general store opposite the House of Delights, where I bought a light chitin bow in exchange for my unwanted spear. (If I hadn't been able to sell it, I guess I could always have donated it to Crassius Curio as a prop for his new play). After that I wandered around Suran for a while in search of the tradehouse, past groups of chatting housewives and giggling teenagers, and a wild-eyed shirtless guy mumbling something about 'Red Mountain' and 'the Incarnate'. The town was built on the lower slopes of a mountain, so when I mounted the last of several long flights of steps, I could turn and look out over the whole town to the bay below.

I found Hides-His-Eyes in an upper room of the tradehouse, but he couldn't give me any more information about Haj-Ei than my 'friend' the drunken slave-hunter. When I mentioned the name, he just shrugged. "Yes, the escaped slave. Hunted for many weeks, we did. Took the bounty hunter all around this area looking for him. Never caught him, though." He shook his head thoughtfully. "No, never caught him."

I looked hard at him. It can be difficult to for humans to interpret Argonians' expressions, since their facial structure is so different, but I could swear I saw his lips curve up slightly at that last sentence. By now I had a strong suspicion as to where Haj-Ei might be, but I had no proof.

On one of the lower floors, one of the patrons directed me the slave trader Dranas Sarathram, who was apparently an expert on Argonians and their language. I hadn't realised Suran had a slave market, and was a little shocked to find something like that in such a pleasant, cosmopolitan little town. Nevertheless, I made my way there in search of Dranas.

When I entered the building it appeared to be empty, but off to the side I could see several doors with small, barred windows in them, like the door of a prison cell. I walked to the centre of the room in order to see inside them, and immediately wished I hadn't.

The two rooms I could see from here reminded me strongly of the prison cell where I'd served out my jail sentence, only smaller, dirtier and more cramped – closer to animal pens than cells. Inside each one, a thin, listless-looking and nearly naked Argonian sat slumped in a corner. Hearing my footsteps, one of them raised his eyes to look at me for a moment and then quickly lowered them again, obviously taking me for a potential buyer. I felt sick.

Quickly I turned away, and found myself face to face with a male Dark Elf. It was a real struggle to conceal the disgust I was feeling and force myself to smile pleasantly.

"I am Dranas Sarathram, the slave trader here," he said, returning the smile. "Can I help you, _sera_?"

The next few minutes felt more than a little surreal to me. I had honestly never imagined having a polite conversation with a slave trader. I'd always considered them the scum of the mortal plane, right up there with torturers and child-killers. Finding this one to be a friendly, courteous man, who clearly thought he was just doing a job like any other, was almost as disconcerting as the sight of the slave pens.

We chatted about this and that for a minute or two, and then I casually asked him whether he knew someone called 'Hides-His-Eyes'. "Don't know him," he said. "Argonian, right? Sounds like an Argonian name. Not his real name, of course, but that's the way of things."

"Really?" I asked innocently. "Not his real name?"

"Well, of course – it's just a translation from the Argonian." He thought for a moment. "That would translate to something like Hajeekius… Hajesheeus… maybe Haj-Ei. Most folks don't bother to learn the language of these savages, but for me it makes business a little bit easier."

I nodded understandingly and then told him that I had to be going. After promising to 'think about it' when he asked if I'd like to buy a slave, I left the building as quickly as possible, highly relieved to be getting out of there at last. I didn't think I'd forget the sight of those slave pens for a long time.

I hurried back to the tradehouse and Hides-His-Eyes, who looked a little suspicious to see me back again. "What do you want?"

"I need to speak to you in private." He followed me into a back room and shut the door behind us, now looking even more suspicious.

"Well, what are you here for?"

"I'm here to tell you that you're an idiot… _Haj-Ei_." I threw up my hands. "What the hell did you think you were doing, pulling a stunt like that?"

Hides-His-Eyes raised his eyebrows, clearly realising that the game was up. "You found my secret, you did? I'll not try to hide it from you. Yes, I am the one the bounty hunter seeks." He fixed me with a defiant glare. "He would take me back to the slavers. That is not for me. So I dragged him around the wilderness for a while... what of it? Does he not deserve it, the drunken fool?"

"_He_ may be a fool," I whispered, "but the local slave-trader isn't. Did you _know_ that he speaks your language?" His eyes widened. "If he ever gets to hear the name 'Haj-Ei', you can bet he'll put two and two together. It's a miracle you've got away with this for so long!"

Hides-His-Eyes looked somewhat shaken. "No, I did not know this." He paused. "So, now you know my secret, what will you do with it? You… will not tell, will you?"

"No, I won't tell. But you need to get out of town _now_." Suddenly I realised that he might not have anywhere to go. "Is there anyone who might help you?"

"If I can reach the Argonian mission in Ebonheart, they will help me." He nodded slowly. "You are a good friend – I thank you."

"No problem," I said, shaking my head in exasperation. "Just be more _careful_ in future, okay?"

He nodded. "I will let others know what you have done for me today. Have you seen the Twin Lamps?"

I blinked, confused by this sudden turn in the conversation. "Twin… Lamps?"

"They light the way to freedom," he whispered, and hurried off.

Okay, I was still confused. But at least I'd managed to help a slave escape, and hopefully in a way that wasn't likely to get me into trouble. The silt strider would take him straight to Ebonheart, so why he hadn't just hopped on it straight away was beyond me; maybe he was one of these people who enjoyed living on the edge.

I left the town myself early in the afternoon, not keen to spend any more time there. As the silt strider ambled away from the port, I couldn't help glancing back a little guiltily at the building housing the slave market. Locked in a vault in Vivec somewhere, I probably had enough money to buy and free at least some of those slaves – but I _needed_ that money in order to get back to Cyrodiil. I knew it sounded horribly selfish, but I'd never get back home if I set out to free every slave in Vvardenfell.

When I arrived back in Balmora, it was getting dark and I was tired and frustrated. I'd gone all the way to Suran and back without accomplishing my Fighter's Guild mission, and what was more, I still didn't have any idea how to deal with Ralen Hlaalo's murderer. So I set off to do what any bold adventurer would do in this situation: drown my sorrows in a tavern.

The Eight Plates was full of well-dressed young Dunmer; clearly this was where the children of the local nobs hung out. I ordered a Cyrodiilic brandy and settled down in a corner, letting the conversation float over me. Although most people there were Dark Elves, there were a few outlanders present as well, so much of the discussion took place in Tamrielic. All the Dunmer there seemed to speak it fluently, and I envied them their ability to switch easily between their own language and the common Imperial tongue (I never was much good at languages myself).

One particular discussion caught my attention, apparently concerning the local magistrate. "Everyone knows Nolus Atrius is on the take," one man was saying. "Thieves, thugs, and murderers are getting ridiculous sentences, or paying a drake and walking free. But he's got fatcats and family back in the City to cover him."

"Well, I hear the Legion Champion over at Moonmoth Fort has sworn an oath to stop corruption."

There was a general roar of laughter at this. "Larrius Varro?" spluttered the first man. "If so, he should start with his own soldiers first. Honestly, that's like the Camonna Tong swearing an oath to wipe out organised crime."

"The Legion is the worst of the lot," said one of the women.

"No, they're all as bad as each other."

The others nodded in agreement. "How do you think it was that bloated Imperial plutocrats got the charter to exploit the Caldera ebony deposits, and not a native Great House or local colonist? Big fat bribes, I tell you. And friends in high places."

I squirmed a little in my seat, feeling the back of my neck grow hot. Okay, so a lot of what they were saying was probably true, but we weren't _all_ corrupt. Seriously. And given that most of these guys probably belonged to House Hlaalu, the words 'pot' and 'kettle' sprang to mind.

At that moment one of the Dunmer happened to glance in my direction, and saw me listening intently with arms folded. A look of horror crossed his face, and he nudged his friend sharply in the ribs. "Hey, Meril! Keep it down!"

Everyone looked round at me. "Carry on," I said, giving them a little wave. "Don't mind me."

The man who had just spoken gave a rather embarrassed cough, and turned back to his friends. "Well, anyway, he'll never get anywhere working through the system. The syndicates have got their people covered coming and going."

"Then he's going to have to go around the system," said someone else. "Or through the system. Like, straight and _hard_ through the system."

There were murmurs of agreement, and the conversation gradually drifted on to other topics – but the talk about Larrius Varro and going 'through the system' had given me an idea. Granted, the kind of mildly crazy idea you tend to get after downing several glasses of brandy, but still an idea.

The next day I took a quick trip to Ald'ruhn to talk to Percius Mercius. By now it was becoming second nature to use the Guild Guides, despite how nervous I'd been at first, and yet again I found myself wondering why such a great idea hadn't made it to Cyrodiil. In general, we Imperials are past masters at stealing other people's ideas, incorporating them seamlessly into our own culture, and pretending we thought of them all along. Maybe it was one of those petty regulations that the Mages' Council dreams up every few years, just to remind everyone that they still exist.

Percius looked grave when I told him about Desele and the Camonna Tong. "Yes, Manos Othreleth works for Orvas Dren, so I suspect this may not be a legitimate contract."

"So what should I do?"

"Well, if you don't want to get the money from her, I guess you'll have to pay it yourself." He saw the expression on my face, and shrugged. "Sorry, but that's all I can think of."

I really wasn't happy with the idea of my own money going to fund the Camonna Tong, but it was better than having to bully Desele into paying them protection money. I returned to Balmora with a heavy heart and went to the Fighters' Guild, where I handed over two hundred drakes to Eydis (without telling her that it was my own money, of course).

"Good work, Ada. Here's your share." She gave me back half of the money. I still wasn't happy, but hopefully this would head off any more threats to Desele's 'respectable business' (snort).

"Now," Eydis continued, "I have a bounty contract for the Orc Dura Gra-Bol. She's an outlaw, living openly in a house here in Balmora. I have a contract here that says 250 septims are yours if you bring her to justice."

I agreed to the contract – making a mental note to check it with Percius first – but instead of going straight off to deal with Gra-Bol, I left town and headed for Fort Moonmoth. Inside I met Radd Hard-Heart, the Nord soldier who'd taken my Dwemer coins after my visit to Arkngthand. "I'd like to speak to Larrius Varro," I told him.

He looked rather surprised, but waved his hand towards one of the staircases. "Down the stairs and to the right."

Larrius Varro was dressed like a typical Imperial guard, but I could tell immediately that he was more than that. When I introduced myself, his brows shot up and he gave me a hard, appraising look. "Greetings," he said at last. "I'm Larrius Varro, Legion Champion of Fort Moonmoth. I may have some work for you, if you're interested."

"That's what I'm here about, actually."

"Really?" He nodded slowly. "Well, Ada, the truth is that I'd been hoping you might come by. Through various channels, I've learned a bit about your situation."

"You have?" It was my turn to be surprised. Was Larrius involved with the Blades somehow?

"I'd like to tell you a little story," he continued. "When I'm done, you can ask me some questions – and then, maybe, you might decide to go out and do some things. Or you might not. That's your affair."

"Go ahead."

Larrius glanced around, making sure we were alone, then laid an arm around my shoulders in a confiding manner. "Very well, here is the story: Once upon a time, there was a bad magistrate who took gold from criminal organisations to reduce the sentences and fines of criminals. Everybody knew he was doing this, but nobody could prove it – because even if it could be proved, the bad magistrate had important friends, and proof is not as powerful as important friends."

"Quite," I said.

"At the same time, there was a good officer who enforced the laws because he thought laws made people happy and safe. And it bothered the good officer that enforcing the laws did no good, because the bad magistrate let the criminals go as quick as the officer caught them."

"But then, the good officer said, 'Say. Wait a minute. What about the bad people who are bribing the bad magistrate? They haven't got important friends. And if they aren't around, then the bad magistrate can't get any more bribes."

By this time I was trying not to smile. "So what happened?"

"Well, the good officer suspected that the bad people who were bribing the bad magistrate were probably criminals themselves. So he made a little special prayer that there would be a little bloodbath to wash the bad people away." He smiled. "There, isn't that a nice little story? But maybe it isn't over yet…"

"It's a great story," I said, still battling to keep a straight face. "Tell me, where could one find these 'bad people'?"

"Oh." He looked surprised. "The bad people are the Camonna Tong – I thought everybody knew that. Well, all I know is that they are a scout, a pawnbroker, a savant, a thief, and a smith, and they are in Balmora."

"Would one of them be named Thanelan Velas, by any chance?"

Larrius shook his head. "I can't give you any names. It's against the Code to tell officers things. But I bet if _you_ asked the Thieves Guild, they would cheerfully tell you who the bad people are and where to find them." He thought for a moment, frowning. "I warn you, though, these bad people are very tough. Tougher than you, I'm afraid."

Unfortunately, this was probably true. I'd improved quite a bit since my release from prison, but even at my peak there was no way I could have taken on five Camonna Tong thugs at once. Still, if I could find another way…

"Tell me," I said carefully. "Suppose, just suppose there _were_ to be a bloodbath… what would happen to me?"

"Well, Ada, I love the law. I love the Empire. But sometimes, no matter how hard we try to keep the peace, there is going to be blood." He lowered his voice. "If there are any problems of a legal nature, I will speak to some of my friends, and take care of it. Oh, and I believe there a nice present the Emperor wants you to have… _after_ you do the work."

He patted me on the shoulder in a friendly manner. I assured him that I was looking forward to receiving the Emperor's 'nice present', and left.

I needed a plan, I thought, as I walked back to Balmora. It was no use just barging in there and waving a sword around; I'd be cut to ribbons within seconds. What was the name of that spell I never thought I'd have any use for? Ah yes: _frenzy_.

For the next couple of days I was very busy. I paid a visit to the Thieves' Guild, visited enchanters in several different cities in search of spell scrolls, and spent the rest of the time practising my combat skills with the Blades trainers (just in case). I sent a note to Nileno saying that I was working on a plan to deal with Ralen's murderer, and received a terse reply: "Then get on with it." I was starting to contemplate a spot of murder myself at this point.

Finally I had everything I needed: a couple of Frenzy Humanoid scrolls and a very powerful Chameleon spell. I'd had to pay extra to have the scroll written up by the enchanter, who had no doubt wondered what I could possibly need it for. Late in the evening, when the streets were beginning to empty of people and no guards were passing by, I ducked into the doorway of the Council Club and cast the Chameleon spell.

Almost immediately my outstretched hands vanished in front of my face. I could _just_ see the outline there if I looked very carefully, but to all intents and purposes I was invisible. I didn't have any time to waste, so I quickly opened the door and slipped inside the building.

I walked right past Thanelan Velas on the stairs leading down to the bar area, but he gave no sign of having seen or heard me; clearly the enchanter had done his work well. Taking a deep breath, I strode towards the centre of the room – where three other Cammona Tong members sat drinking and talking – and cast off the two Frenzy scrolls in rapid succession.

The scene that followed was not pretty. The two Tong members struck by the spells immediately leapt to their feet with cries of anger, drawing their weapons and waving them around wildly. The other one leapt to her feet and drew her own weapon, shouting "What the hell are you doing?" Seconds later the three of them were engaged in a pitched battle, swinging frantically at each other with swords and hand-axes.

A woman rushed up from a downstairs area, yelling something in Dunmeris, and I ran her through from behind before she could even reach the others. Moments later, Thanelan Velas came running down the upper staircase. I stuck out my foot to trip him over and brought my own blade down on his neck as he fell.

By this time two of the first three Dunmer lay dead on the ground, and the survivor was howling in pain, seriously wounded. It was a truly horrible sight, but this was no time to be squeamish. Gritting my teeth, I seized the unfortunate man from behind and drew my blade across his throat before he had time to react.

As I stood back to survey the grisly scene, I realised that I had become visible again. The only other person left in the room was the bartender, who was curled up in a ball, whimpering in terror. I didn't think he'd seen me, and I didn't particularly want to kill him, so I hurried upstairs and out of the building. Hidden behind some crates in an alleyway, I wiped off my armour and changed my blood-spattered clothes for some clean ones.

Just as I emerged from the alleyway, thinking I'd made it without being spotted, a heavy hand clamped down on my arm. The shock was so great that I let out a squeak of terror and very nearly lashed out with my sword. A moment later I found myself staring into the face of a male Dunmer – not a guard, but a roughly-dressed commoner with a torch in his hand. The glazed, vacant look in his eyes was all too familiar, as were his subsequent words: "_I am a Sleeper, one among thousands…_"

"Leave me _alone_!" I yelped, looking around frantically. In the distance I could see a guard beginning to walk in our direction.

"I bring you a message," he continued, unmoved. "Dagoth Ur calls you, Ada, and you cannot deny your Lord. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory."

"All right! _All right_! Now get lost!" I shoved him away, as hard as I could, and made a dash for the gates. I didn't stop until I'd made it across the bridge outside Balmora and was sure that neither guards nor the 'Sleeper' were following me.

Okay, this was getting downright scary. One crazy guy mumbling about Dagoth Ur I could take, but two? Who the heck were these 'Sleepers', anyway – something to do with the Sixth House cult that Hasphat Antabolis had told me about? Had to be.

I lost no time in going to Larrius Varro to tell him about the 'bloodbath'. Obviously I hadn't had time to check that I'd got all the right people, but as far as I could tell they'd matched the descriptions given by the Thieves' Guild. As I explained what had happened, a slow smile spread over his face.

"So everything's been taken care of," he said. "And, remarkably enough, without creating any problems of a legal nature. You are far more discreet than I had hoped, Ada."

"Don't mention it," I said. "Er, you said something about a 'nice present'…?"

"Ah, yes! Here." He extracted something from the leather pouch on his belt. "It seems to be a ring. A very nice ring. There was no note with it, I'm afraid, but I'll let the Emperor know you've received it – I'm sure he'll be pleased."

I took the ring, which had a Chameleon enchantment on it. It was a very nice ring, and would have been incredibly useful… about two hours ago, _before_ I'd wiped out half of the Council Club. Sheesh.

Varro wasn't quite finished, though. "And also, because of your exceptional discretion, take this special volume from my own library, with my compliments."

He handed me the book _Biography of the Wolf Queen_. I'd read it already, back when I was a good little schoolgirl in Cyrodiil, but I knew it was valuable. "Thanks."

"It might be best for you to stay at the fort tonight," he advised. "You can use one of the bunks. If anyone asks… you've been here all evening, yes?" I agreed.

When I arrived back in Balmora the next morning, there was a small crowd milling around outside the Council Club. Several Hlaalu guards were there, blocking the door and trying to keep order. "What's going on?" I asked a random onlooker, trying my very best to look puzzled and innocent.

The woman grinned. "Looks like someone hit the Camonna Tong at the Council Club. _Hard_."

"Goodness," I said. "Do they know who it was?"

She shook her head. "Nobody seems to know what happened. Probably the Thieves' Guild."

I turned away, suppressing a smile. Apparently I'd managed to kill two birds with one stone; no doubt Nileno would be pleased. I just hoped the Tong never found out who was responsible, or I'd probably end up next on their hit list.


	9. Chapter 9: He Had It Coming

**Chapter 9: He Had It Coming**

Nileno was all smiles when I went to see her at the Council House, her previous bad mood apparently forgotten. "Ada!" she exclaimed. "I hear you killed Thanelan Velas. Take these 1,000 drakes as a reward for solving this murder."

"Well, I'm glad he's dead," I said, "but I don't think I should accept the money. I had nothing to do with the attack on the Council Club."

"Of course not," she said, not missing a beat. "I meant to say, please take these drakes as a reward for your… exceptional service to House Hlaalu. And while we're about it, I'm promoting you to the rank of Oathman."

"Ooh." Clearly I was going up in the world. "Do I need to do anything else?"

"Well, once you reach the next rank I won't be able to promote you any further. You'll have to persuade one of the Councillors to sponsor you." A mercenary glint came into her eye. "In fact, for a small consideration, I might tell you which one to speak to."

Sighing, I handed her fifty drakes from the money purse she'd just given me, and then almost dropped it on the floor when she said, "Crassius Curio is the one you should speak with."

"…Crassius _Curio_?" My voice came out around an octave higher than usual. "Not the one living in the Hlaalu canton in Vivec?"

"Ah, you've heard of him?" she enquired. "Yes, he is the most open-minded of the Councillors, though somewhat… eccentric. He is the one most likely to listen to your requests, whatever they may be."

Oh, gods. Could I really stand having to work for that guy? On the other hand… he _was_ clearly wealthy and influential, and could probably pull a few strings on my behalf. Surely I could put up with being called 'pumpkin' and 'sweetroll' for a while if it meant a chance of getting back to Cyrodiil.

"But before that," she continued, "there is one more item of business."

"Oh?"

"The East Empire Company threatened to buy ebony from House Redoran unless we lower prices." I waited for her to continue. "Either convince Canctunian Ponius in Ebonheart to buy ebony from us, or kill Darns Tedalen, the head of mining operations in the Sudanit Mine. If you do both, there might be a bonus in it for you."

My jaw dropped. I guess I really shouldn't have been shocked at anything Nileno said by this point, but even so, that last part completely floored me. I knew by now that the Hlaalu were pretty ruthless in defending their business interests, but I'd never imagined they'd go _that_ far.

"Um, sorry, Nileno," I said weakly. "Did you just say you wanted me to _murder_ the head of mining operations?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, clearly horrified. I was just beginning to think I'd misjudged her when she continued, "That would be _dreadfully_ bad for business."

"But…" I hesitated, trying to get myself into the mindset of someone who thought like that. "Then how am I supposed to kill him? There'll be guards, surely?"

Nileno shook her head in exasperation. "Oh, Ada. You must provoke _him_ into attacking _you_ first, of course – that way it will be perfectly legal to kill him." She gave me an indulgent smile. "You really must learn how these things work, my dear."

My mouth was still hanging open. "Right," I said at last, recovering the power of speech. "I… think I'll just speak to this Ponius guy, if it's all the same to you. Who is he exactly, anyway?"

I nearly fainted when she said, "He is the local Factor of the East Empire Company."

Great, I thought, as I left the building a short time later. What the heck was I supposed to do now? How was I supposed to convince the head of the East Empire Company that he should continue to buy ebony from Hlaalu? How would I ever even persuade him to see me? It wasn't as if I was anyone important.

But however impossible that task might seem, the alternative was even worse. There was no way I was going to kill an innocent man just because Nileno asked me to, 'legal' or not. Camonna Tong members were one thing; a guy whose only crime was to belong to a different House was quite another.

Why couldn't we just lower our own prices, I thought, with a sudden flash of anger. Wasn't that how commerce was supposed to work anyway? People might criticise us Imperials for our mercantile outlook, but at least we understood that!

I couldn't immediately think of any ideas. I even said a quick prayer to Zenithar, our god of commerce (yes, we have a god of commerce – we're _Imperials_, for crying out loud), but it didn't seem to help. It wasn't until that evening that inspiration finally struck, over yet another glass of ale in the Eight Plates tavern.

In addition to the normal spells you can learn from tutors, each race has certain 'inherent' magical powers that we're pretty much born with. They don't need any skill or cost any magicka to cast, but the downside is that for some reason they only work once a day (please don't ask me, I don't make the rules). One of the powers we Imperials get is a powerful Charm spell known as the 'Voice of the Emperor', which can persuade the target to agree to almost anything – for a short time, at least.

If I could just get in to see Ponius and cast the spell on him… I knew it was risky, as he'd probably taken precautions against that kind of thing, but using Illusion magic on people wasn't actually illegal. The worst he could do was throw me out, and at least I'd be able to tell Nileno that I'd _tried_.

I spent some time sketching out a rough plan of action in my journal, and on the next morning I travelled to Vivec to put it into practice. My first stop was at a clothier's in the Foreign Quarter, run by a woman called Agrippina Herennia. Being a fellow Imperial, she was very understanding when I explained what I needed, and even helped me style my hair into something more interesting than its usual neat braids.

"Have you thought of using some Telvanni bug musk?" she asked, as I tried on some of her beautifully-tailored clothes.

"Telvanni bug musk?" I'd never even heard of it.

"It's a perfume made from the scent glands of Grazelands beetles," she explained. "The fragrance is attractive to all mortal races and sexes – it can make even a barbarian persuasive. Very expensive, but well worth it."

So I went to buy a flask of Telvanni bug musk from one of the alchemists in the Lower Waistworks. It was stupidly expensive, at 100 septims a bottle, but if it was as powerful as Agrippina said then that was hardly surprising. I'd soon find out, anyway.

A ship docked near the Foreign Quarter took me to Ebonheart, the Imperial administrative centre of Vvardenfell. It was very much a Western-style settlement, built entirely out of stone, and resembling a large castle. The plaza by the docks was dominated by a huge marble statue of the Dragon God Akatosh, chief of the Nine Divines. Out of long habit, I brushed my hand against it for luck as I went past.

I stood in front of the East Empire Company headquarters, staring up at the imposing building, and I must admit that I almost lost my nerve. I came very close to just saying "sod it", heading back to the docks, and going back to tell Nileno that I wasn't up to the task. After all, what was the worst that could happen? She could either accept it or kick me out of the House, and frankly, at this stage I was starting to think that might be a good thing.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a Redguard man smile at me. "You okay there, friend?"

"Fine." I forced myself to smile back.

"Here from Cyrodiil?"

I nodded. "Just for a little while."

"Well, I wouldn't hurry back." He looked sombre. "I heard about the unrest in Cyrodiil City. Sounds like things are pretty bad there at the moment."

My heart leapt into my mouth. I hadn't heard anything about this. "What unrest?"

"Didn't you know?" I shook my head. "Uriel Septim is sick, and wizards say the young Septims are just doppelgangers placed there when Jagar Tharn was Imperial Battlemage. They say the Guard charged a mob demanding destruction of the false heirs... lots of folks were killed."

I felt a horrible sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Cyrodiil City – or Imperial City as we call it back there – was my home. My friends were there, and my family. Not that I could ever imagine my parents joining a mob to storm the Palace, but if they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time…

Suddenly I knew that whatever it took, I had to get back to Cyrodiil. All the time I was running around doing stupid errands for Caius Cosades and Nileno Dorvayn, my friends back in the City were in danger. I'd no idea if I could help or not, but it was _my_ city, and if there was trouble then I ought to be there.

As the Redguard watched in bewilderment, I took my flask of bug musk out of my pack and dabbed a liberal amount onto my wrists and collarbone. Then, taking a deep breath, I marched into the EEC office with my head held high.

"Good day," I said to the clerk inside, smiling sweetly. His mouth dropped open and he hastily got to his feet, smoothing back his hair. "I'm a representative of House Hlaalu. Would it be possible for me to speak to Mr. Ponius, please?"

"I – of course, my lady. I'll see what I can do." Red-faced, he hurried from the room, while I quickly dabbed on a little more of the Telvanni bug musk. It was the first and probably the only time that I would ever provoke that kind of reaction from a man, and I have to admit that it was rather enjoyable.

A few moments later the clerk returned and ushered me through into Ponius' office, where the Factor sat at a desk. For a moment he looked a little confused, but as I drew closer and the scent wafted over him, that same stunned expression crossed his face. "Ah, a fellow Imperial!" he said in delight, springing to his feet. "What can I do for you, madam?"

"Good morning, Factor," I said, with my most charming smile. "I'm _very_ pleased to meet you." I shook hands with him, and as I did so, I murmured the words to the 'Voice of the Emperor' spell under my breath.

What came next… well, let's just say that it was not my sharply-honed business acumen that persuaded Canctunian Ponius to renew the contract. I flirted shamelessly, I batted my eyelashes, I did everything I'd always dismissed as completely unforgivable in a modern, liberated woman. I don't think I even did it particularly well, but that hardly mattered – with the combined effect of the spell and the Telvanni bug musk, I could probably have stood there reciting the alphabet and had the same effect.

After securing Ponius's compliance (poor guy, he never stood a chance), I went down to the docks and enquired about travel to the mainland. As I'd expected, I was told that ships were being turned back due to the Blight, but I did find out that a ship was leaving soon for Tel Branora – the Telvanni settlement where Maurrie Aurmine's friend lived. I decided now would be as good a time as any to go there (not least because I was keen to put off my next meeting with Crassius Curio for as long as possible).

It was a long journey to Tel Branora, a small and isolated island in the region known as Azura's Coast, and we didn't arrive until sunrise the next morning. When I stepped on to the docks, all I could see was a few wooden shacks. It was only after struggling up a hill that I got my first sight of Tel Branora itself – and it literally took my breath away.

The entire village – if you could call it that – seemed to be carved out of one absolutely enormous mushroom. A huge central tower stretched up towards the sky, and around it, houses and shops were built into the mushroom 'caps' and connected by winding spiral staircases. Shrouded in mist, glowing faintly in the early morning light, it looked like something from a child's book of fairytales. Say what you like about the Telvanni, they had _style_.

I did feel a little nervous as I walked towards the town, remembering the stories I'd been told – but while none of the locals here seemed particularly friendly, none of them made any attempt to kidnap or enslave me. I finally plucked up courage to ask directions from at a small encampment nearby, where a Dunmer woman stood with a group of heavily-armed Bosmer guards.

The woman scowled at me as I approached. Before I even had a chance to speak, she called to me angrily: "Stay out of things that don't concern you, outlander! This affair is between myself and Therana."

"Um, I didn't mean to interfere," I said meekly, wondering what the 'affair' was and for that matter, who Therana was. "I just wondered if you could tell me where to find someone called Barnand Erelie?"

She looked at me with undisguised disgust. "Do I _look_ like a tour guide? Find someone else to give you directions."

Shrugging, I left her and crossed over a narrow walkway into the settlement itself. The first thing I saw was a trader's banner fluttering outside one of the mushroom 'houses', so I went in to ask the shopkeeper inside about Barnand. The inside of the weird mushroom was even stranger than the outside; an earthy smell pervaded the rooms and the walls looked moist and fleshy, like the insides of an animal. I really didn't think I'd want to live in a place like this.

Rather to my surprise, the trader seemed relatively friendly and was happy to share information about local services. "Llorayna Sethan runs Sethan's Tradehouse," she told me. "That's probably where you'll find your friend. Galen Berer is a smith and armorer, Fadase Selvayn is a trader, and Mistress Therana in the tower is our lady sorceress. Oh, and Trerayna Dalen – Mistress Therana's Telvanni challenger – has a camp just outside the village."

I was taken aback by her casual attitude. "Does this happen… often?"

"Fairly often, yes," she said. "It's the traditional Telvanni way of settling disputes."

Okay, maybe all those wild stories about the Telvanni weren't so far-fetched after all.

I found Barnand in the tradehouse, as predicted. I knew immediately that there wasn't likely to be anything between us; he was a good-looking man, slim and fair-haired, but not really my type. He seemed friendly enough, though.

"Ah...so you're the one who brought Maurrie and Nelos together!" he exclaimed, when I told him who I was. "Nothing has been seen or heard of them since then, but the bards are singing songs of their love. Please, take these as a token of my gratitude."

He handed me three extremely high-quality Restore Health potions. Well, I might not be getting a boyfriend out of this, but that was a pretty good substitute.

I spent some time exploring the rest of Tel Branora, marvelling at its intricate construction. No one back home would _ever_ believe me when I told them about this. It made me wish I had some kind of magical device that could capture an image of the tower, exactly as it was, to show to my friends.

As I wandered up a spiral walkway, looking for a way into the tower, I found my way blocked by a very tall Telvanni guard. He was so swathed in heavy armour that I couldn't even tell what race he was; only his height and ungloved hands indicated that he was an Altmer.

I was just about to turn back when he strode up to me. "Outlander. Would you like to earn some gold?"

"Maybe," I said cautiously. "Who are you?"

"I am Mollimo of Cloudrest, Mistress Therana's guard captain." He pointed into the distance where Trerayna Dalen had her camp. "I want you to take care of Trerayna Dalen for me. She's a petty annoyance, but Mistress Therana won't let me leave the tower to deal with her. Kill her, and I'll pay you 1,000 gold."

Gods, did I _look_ like someone who'd kill random strangers for money? "I'm not an assassin for hire," I said coldly. "And I don't want to get mixed up in Telvanni disputes."

He shrugged. "If you change your mind, the offer still stands."

"Could I see Mistress Therana?"

"You'll find her in her chamber in the Upper Tower," he said. "Easiest way is to enter through north-facing entrance to the Tower. You'll have to fly, of course."

I looked blankly at him. "Fly?"

"Yes, fly. You'll have to fly, either way you go." He paused. "In any case, I wouldn't recommend approaching her. Mistress Therana is old and somewhat… eccentric. Her behaviour can be unpredictable."

I wasn't really listening. I was still trying to work out if he was just having me on, or if he was actually serious when he spoke about flying. Sure, I knew plenty of Alteration spells (or knew _of_ them, at least), but I'd never even realised flying was possible. Surely it couldn't be that only the Telvanni knew how to do it?

Anyway, it didn't look like I'd be meeting Therana – and to be honest, there wasn't really a lot else to do in Tel Branora. I'd have loved to see the tower lit up at night, but I didn't want to hang around all day just waiting for sundown. Rather than spend another day or so travelling back by ship, I tried casting a Divine Intervention scroll, and was somewhat surprised to find myself right back in Ebonheart outside an Imperial chapel. Apparently this kind of scroll teleported you to the nearest Imperial Cult shrine, the same way Almsivi Intervention scrolls took you to the nearest Temple.

As I boarded the silt strider for Balmora, it occurred to me that I hadn't made any progress in my pilgrimage for quite a long while. I'd joined the Temple a few days after arriving in Vvardenfell, yet so far I'd only visited one of the seven shrines on the list. I really ought to be putting more effort into it, or they'd start thinking I lacked faith (heaven forbid).

I got out my book to check the sites of the other pilgrimage shrines. Three of them were in Vivec, which was fairly convenient, but my heart sank when I saw that two others were in the town of Gnisis and the Koal Cave – both up in the far north-west, near the coast. Even if I could come up with a reason to visit that part of the country, it would still take days to get there and back. The last shrine – described by the book as one of the most difficult to reach – was at a place called 'Ghostgate' near the crater of Red Mountain, the large volcano in the centre of the island.

I decided I'd try to get the Vivec pilgrimages done next time I visited the city, but in the meantime I had to tell Nileno about the ebony contract. Before that, though, I went to the Eight Plates and composed a letter to my parents – my first in several years.

When I left home at the age of eighteen, I'd left a letter for them, explaining what I'd done and that I could be reached through the Fighters' Guild. On receiving a tear-stained reply, begging me to give up this 'silly nonsense' and come home, I'd written back explaining gently but firmly that it wasn't going to happen. I hadn't heard from them since, even though I'd written several more letters, so I eventually stopped bothering – but now it was different. I wasn't too hopeful that this letter would even reach them, what with the travel bans and the unrest in Cyrodiil, but I had to try.

I was still a little distracted when I went back to the Balmora Council Hall after handing in the letter for delivery, but Nileno didn't seem to notice. "So you convinced Canctunian Ponius," she said, when I told her about the meeting. "Good work, Ada - please take these 1,000 drakes as a gift from House Hlaalu. And I believe this merits a promotion to Lawman."

I knew I ought to be pleased about this, but somehow I couldn't work up any enthusiasm. "Does this mean you don't have any more duties for me?"

She nodded. "You must find a sponsor among the Hlaalu Councillors. Since you are a foreigner, you should speak with Crassius Curio – I doubt any of the others would agree to sponsor you."

I really wasn't looking forward to a second meeting with 'Uncle Crassius', but I supposed I might as well get it over with. So I went to Vivec, to Curio Manor in the Hlaalu canton, and spent some time explaining my situation to Curio. I'd been expecting him to ask some kind of mildly sleazy favour in return for his sponsorship, but what happened next was beyond anything I had imagined.

"You want me to be your sponsor in House Hlaalu?" he exclaimed. "I thought you'd never ask. But first, I want to see who I'm dealing with." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair, smiling. "So, Ada, show Uncle Crassius what you have to offer."

I know this is going to sound stupid, but for a moment I honestly didn't have a clue what he was talking about. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, dumpling, don't be shy," he wheedled. "Just do this one little favour for Uncle Crassius."

Was he asking for a bribe? I'd been in House Hlaalu long enough to know that the answer was probably 'yes', no matter how pathetically greedy it seemed. I heaved an exasperated sigh, fumbling for my purse. "All right, how much?"

But Crassius waved it away. "Now come on, sweetie, I'm sure we understand each other. No need to be coy. After all, that armour looks _so_ hot and uncomfortable…"

And it finally hit me. For a second I just goggled at him, unable to believe he was actually asking what I thought he was asking, but the lecherous grin on his face made it all too plain that he was. What the _hell_? Who the _hell_ did he think he was?

The lovely ceramic vase on the nearby table never stood a chance. With a gasp of fury I snatched it up and hurled it at Crassius, hitting him square on the nose and shattering the vase into pieces. "How _dare_ you!"

Crassius leapt to his feet with a cry of pain. "What are you doing? GUARDS! I'm being attacked!"

Two Ordinators came running at the sound of his voice. One of them seized me and pinned my arms behind my back, while the other surveyed the broken pottery and Crassius' angry face. "What's going on here, Ser Curio?"

"She threw that vase at me!" Crassius was quivering with indignation. Blood was trickling from a small cut on his forehead where a sharp piece of pottery had struck him.

The other Ordinator twisted me around to face him, ignoring my furious struggles. "Why did you do this, outlander?"

"He tried to make me _strip off in front of him_! Pervert!" I snarled over my shoulder at Crassius. "Isn't harassing women a crime here? He's the one you should be arresting!"

The Ordinator regarded me coldly from behind his golden facemask. "Are you saying he actually attacked you?"

"Well, not _as such_, but…" I looked at him in helpless rage. "He insulted me!"

"That's not an excuse, outlander." The Ordinator released my arms. "You must pay for the damage you caused. How much did this vase cost, Ser Curio?"

"Eight hundred septims."

"_Eight hundred_!" I squeaked.

The second Ordinator folded his arms impassively. "And a fine of three hundred drakes for assault. Pay it, outlander, or go to jail."

"_Grrrrrnnngh._" I couldn't believe this was happening. "All right. Just take me to the bank and I'll get the money."

Crassius glowered at me from beneath the handkerchief pressed to his temple. "I'll see you are expelled from House Hlaalu for this, Oathman."

"Good riddance!" I spat, still fuming. "And if you _dare_ go around telling people I attacked you for no reason, I'll make sure everyone knows _exactly_ what you need to do to get 'sponsored' in your House. Have a nice day, 'Uncle Crassius'."

I swept out of the room, followed closely by the Ordinators. Some part of me realised that there was going to be hell to pay when Nileno found out about this, and that I'd just comprehensively screwed up my chances of getting off Vvardenfell any time soon, but right now I was too angry to care. I wanted revenge, and I knew how to get it.

After paying off the fines (with a very bad grace), and being released, I went straight back to the Mages' Guild to take the Guild Guide – not to Balmora, but to Ald'ruhn. There, I went directly to the Skar crabshell and into the Redoran Council Hall, where I'd first met Neminda to intercept those orders.

As I'd hoped, Neminda was still there and she recognised me immediately. "Hello there… Ada, isn't it? Can I help you?"

"Yes. I want to join House Redoran."

She looked at me in astonishment. "But you are Hlaalu!"

"Not any more," I said grimly. "They kicked me out."

"What? Why?"

Ah, here came the hard part. "I, er, threw a vase at one of their Councillors."

Neminda was staring at me open-mouthed. "Why would you do a thing like that?"

"Because he ordered me to undress in front of him, that's why," I snapped. "Wouldn't you have done the same?"

Her expression cleared suddenly. "Wait a second. Would this be Crassius Curio you're talking about?"

"Yes, actually," I said in surprise. "How did you guess?"

By now her eyes were twinkling with amusement. "But Ada, didn't you know? He does that to all the retainers who ask him for sponsorship."

"What, _all_?" I asked in disbelief. "Even the men?"

"Oh, yes," she said, with a wink. "Especially the men."

Good gods. Well, at least he was an equal-opportunity lech.

Neminda composed her features into a severe expression, suddenly remembering who she was speaking to. "Anyway, why should I believe any of this? The Hlaalu might have sent you as a spy."

"I'm not a spy," I said promptly. "But I'll tell you who is: Bivale Teneran, the clothier. Oh, and… you might want to change your codes. _All_ of them."

"Hmph." She hesitated. "Well, we would not usually accept outcasts from other Houses, but…"

"Please," I begged. "Give me a chance. I'm a good fighter. I've been in the Guild for years, and I'm thinking of joining the Legion when I go up to Gnisis for my pilgrimage – "

Her frown softened slightly. "Oh, you're Temple?"

"Yes! Look." I pulled out my now slightly dog-eared copy of _The Pilgrim's Path_. "I've already started the pilgrimages."

"Well, that is something. House Redoran values piety." She thought for a moment. "Perhaps I should give you a chance. But – " she frowned at me sternly – "you're on probation, do you understand? And you will have to start all over again as a Hireling, whatever rank you had reached in Hlaalu."

"That's absolutely fine," I said gratefully. So the Redorans were religious types, were they? Well, I could handle that, as long as they didn't preach at me all the time like that ghastly Alessia Ottus woman back in Imperial City. (I hated her, but she and her husband were 'friends' of my parents, so as a child I'd been forced to play with her equally horrible daughter. We'd never got on, even as five-year-olds.)

"Perhaps you would like to hear the rules of the House first?" Neminda suggested.

Actually, that did sound like a good idea. If I'd only done the same for Hlaalu, perhaps I could have avoided this whole mess.

I nodded, and she quickly reeled off the list from memory. "Steal from your kin, strike your kin unprovoked, or murder your kin, and you shall be cast out from us and called our enemy. Do not break your word of honour. Know your place, serve your superiors, and do your duty to your House. Respect the teachings of the Tribunal. Defend your House, your People, and your Honour."

"One at a time!" I gasped, scrabbling for my journal. "What was the third one again? Okay, that all sounds pretty reasonable."

"This book may help you." She handed me a book called _The True Noble's Code_, by one Serjo Athyn Sarethi.

I opened the book and read a random paragraph. "_A Redoran must show piety to the Aedra and Daedra, our creators and ancestors. For without the divine, we would not have the chance to serve. And without divine law, we would not know right from wrong. And without giving thanks for these things, we would forget out place and our purpose._" I skimmed up the page. "_A Redoran noble must know the virtue of gravity. It is not the Redoran way to laugh at serious matters, for it shows disrespect. It is not the Redoran way to spread rumours, for they fester and breed dissention._"

Boy. These guys were a barrel of laughs, weren't they?

"Fine," I said with a sigh. "I think I can manage that. Is there anything you'd like me to do right now?"

Neminda thought for a moment. "Well, Drulene Falen has asked for our help. She says her guar herds have been having trouble with hostile mudcrabs."

"Okay, well, I'm sure I can – " I paused. "Hang on, _mudcrabs_?"

"That's right." She looked slightly puzzled. "Don't you have those in Cyrodiil?"

"Yes, but… never mind." I heaved a small sigh. Clearly this was going to be the Fighter's Guild 'rat infestation' assignment all over again.

"Anyway, Drulene's guar herd is due west of here, just over the hills. There's no easy way to get there, I'm afraid," she added helpfully. "You'll have to walk."

I copied down her directions, my heart sinking as I realised it would take hours to walk out there. On the other hand… at least it would give me an excuse to stay out of Balmora for a day or two. I couldn't help smiling at the thought of Nileno Dorvayn's face when she found out what had happened, but for all that, I didn't want to risk seeing her again until she'd had time to cool down a bit. I was brave, but not _that_ brave.


	10. Chapter 10: Moving House

A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting this chapter; I've been very busy recently due to being involved in several musical productions. Normal service should be resumed in a couple of weeks.

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Chapter 10: Moving House**

I stayed the night at the Fighters' Guild in Ald'ruhn, where I confirmed the legitimacy of my latest contract with Percius Mercius, and set off on my first mission for Redoran the next morning. Unfortunately Neminda's directions were a little inadequate, and I took a wrong turning somewhere and ended up getting thoroughly lost. Then, after nearly an hour spent retracing my steps, I tried a different route and got lost _again_. By the time I spotted the smoke from Drulene Falen's hut in the distance, the sun was beginning to set and I was tired, dirty and thoroughly fed up.

It was then that I heard a horrible, ear-splitting shriek like the cry of a banshee. I looked around hurriedly, trying to work out where it was coming from, but I couldn't see anything unusual – until suddenly a shadow fell over me and I heard the beat of wings overhead.

I looked up in horror as just some kind of huge, winged creature came swooping down on me, aiming straight for my face. With a cry of fear I swung up my shield to protect myself, and the creature slammed into it with a force that almost knocked me backwards. A talon scraped across my cheek as I lashed out wildly with my sword, cleaving the horrible beast in two. It plummeted to the ground in a cloud of bloodstained feathers.

I stood panting over my defeated foe, conscious that I'd only just escaped with both eyes intact. What the hell _was_ that thing, and why had it tried to kill me? In Cyrodiil, birds were cute, fluffy little things that trilled happy songs and flittered shyly away when humans approached. I should have known that the Morrowind variety would be larger, meaner, and about ten times more homicidal.

Having patched myself up, I continued following the rough trail through the hills and finally arrived at Drulene Falen's farm, just as the last rays of sunlight were fading away. Drulene herself was standing among her guar, which were some of the strangest animals I'd ever seen – large, scaly creatures that looked a little like lizards, but walked on two legs. I'd no idea why mudcrabs would pose any problem to them; by the look of them, they could kill a human without too much trouble.

Drulene waved and called to me when she saw me. "Greetings, outlander! Are you from House Redoran? Did Neminda send you?"

"That's right."

She looked a little put out. "I've been waiting all day, you know."

"I'm sorry," I said wearily. "I got lost. Twice. And then I was attacked by some kind of huge… bird… thing."

"A cliff racer, you mean?"

"Er… maybe. I've never seen one before."

"Well, you'd best get used to them," she advised. "You'll see them often if you spend much time in the Ashlands." Just what I wanted to hear!

"Anyway, Neminda mentioned you had some trouble with… mudcrabs?"

She nodded. "There's a pair of them that's been hunting my guar. Just the other day they killed one and dragged it off. They were very _big_ mudcrabs," she added a little defensively, seeing the expression on my face.

"They must have been," I said. "Do you have any idea where they're coming from?"

"From the coast to the southwest, I think." She sighed. "If this keeps up, I might have to sell what I've still got and move back to Tear." Good grief, these mudcrabs had to be pretty monstrous if they were causing _that_ much trouble.

I set out to search for the culprits as the twilight crept in, and eventually found them in a nearby swamp, by the carcass of the stolen guar. In fairness to Drulene, those were some impressively large mudcrabs, but still not exactly what I'd call a tough opponent. If some people would just learn the basics of how to handle a weapon, it would save an awful lot of trouble.

I made my way back to Drulene's farm in semi-darkness, stumbling over rocks and tree roots on the way. When she saw me, she waved excitedly. "Did you find the mudcrabs?"

"Yup, they're dead."

Her face flooded with relief. "Oh, thank the Tribunal! I might not have to move back to Tear after all. But you look tired, Ada," she added in concern. This was something of an understatement. "Can I offer you some Hackle-Lo?"

I didn't have the faintest idea what Hackle-Lo was, but it didn't seem polite to refuse. I nodded, and she handed me a pouch full of pungent-smelling leaves. _Leaves_?

"Here you go, Ada," she said cheerfully. "After a hard day there's nothing better than chewing some Hackle-Lo."

I took it that Hackle-Lo was the local equivalent of tobacco. No doubt it had some kind of marvellous alchemical properties, but unfortunately I had the alchemical skills of the common mudcrab. "Er, thanks," I said to Drulene, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Just what I wanted."

There was no way I was walking back to Ald'ruhn in complete darkness – I'd lost my way one too many times already – and I didn't want to waste my Intervention scrolls. Drulene's one-room hut didn't have a bed for me, but she kindly allowed me to sleep on the floor on an old blanket. Let's just say that was not the most comfortable night I've ever spent, but it was better than sleeping outside and choking to death if an ash storm blew up.

On my way back to Ald'ruhn the next morning, I kept a wary eye out for cliff racers. The journey took only _half_ a day this time, since I managed to avoid getting lost again, but once back at the Fighters' Guild I spent at least another hour trying to get myself clean. I would never have imagined it was possible to get such huge quantities of ash caught up in my hair. Good thing I keep it tied back on missions, or I'd probably still be washing the stuff out.

Neminda greeted me cheerfully inside the Council hall. "You've been gone a while," she observed, oblivious to the pissed-off expression on my face. "I was expecting you back yesterday evening."

"Things… came up," I said heavily. "Do I get paid now?"

She looked surprised. "Did Drulene not pay you?"

"Um, well, she gave me some… Hackle-Lo? But I thought…"

"Hackle-Lo is valuable," she said severely. "You don't expect anything more, surely?"

"Of course not," I said, forcing myself to smile. Apparently my wages were to be paid in Hackle-Lo from now on. I supposed I would just have to get very good at bartering with the local alchemists.

I didn't feel inclined to take another mission right away, but I couldn't have done in any case, as the next day I found myself trapped in Ald'ruhn by one of those horrible Blight storms. Yet again I found myself wondering what the hell the Redorans had been smoking when they chose to found their capital in a place like this. Either things had got much worse since Ald'ruhn was first built, or they had _really_ drawn the short straw in negotiations over territory. I could just imagine the discussions between them and the other Houses:

Hlaalu: "Okay chaps, let's talk about land rights. We got here first, so we're going to grab all the nice fertile lands in the Ascadian Isles. How about you?"

Telvanni: "Well, we're big on mushrooms, so we're going to build all our settlements out east on Azura's Coast."

Redoran: "We're going to stick our capital city in the middle of a barren, ashy desert, with no nearby water supply or arable land, on the slopes of an active volcano which spews out poisonous ash clouds every few days or so. It has cool shells!"

Other Houses: "......"

In the end, I decided to face the music and go back to Balmora. I'd been putting off visiting Caius as long as possible, but after wiping out half the city's Camonna Tong contingent, I couldn't really go on pretending I needed more time to improve my skills. And I wasn't looking forward to seeing Nileno again either, but it had to be done.

By this time I was meeting the Guild guide Masalinie on such a regular basis that we were starting to become friends. "I hear some Imperial guy has been asking around about you," she said, when I teleported into in the Guild building. "Someone named Caius… Cosades? Oh, and Nileno Dorvayn at the Council hall is looking for you as well. She didn't look too happy."

Surprise, surprise. Well, it was probably best to go there first.

Nileno was writing at her desk as usual, but not for long. The moment she saw me, she leapt to her feet and pointed an accusing finger in my direction. "_Traitor!_"

I had already decided that with Nileno the best means of defence was probably offence, but this made me genuinely angry. "I am _not_ a traitor," I hissed. "You kicked _me_ out, not the other way round!"

She dismissed this with an angry wave of her hand. "You have joined Redoran!"

"So?"

"So? _So_?" Nileno was almost quaking with rage. "If I were not unarmed, I would kill you on the spot!"

"Oh, really? Just like you killed all those Cammona Tong people at the Council Club?" I took a step towards her. "Oh wait, no: That was _me_. Think _very_ carefully before you start threatening me, Nileno."

Inwardly I was trembling, but my little show of bravado must have been convincing, because Nileno's outraged expression subsided into a sulky pout. "Have you _no_ loyalty? We paid you well!"

"I'll pay it back," I snarled. "All of it. With interest."

"You cannot just – " Her brows shot up as she suddenly realised what I was actually saying. "_With interest_?"

A short while later I left the Council manor, having signed an agreement to repay all the money House Hlaalu had paid me – a total of four thousand drakes – plus the five-hundred-drake 'deposit' I had just handed over. If my calculations were correct, that made for an interest rate of 12.5 per cent – pretty steep, but worth it to get Nileno Dorvayn off my back. Luckily I'd chosen to save up most of the money rather than going on a spending spree, but it would still take a while to pay all of it back, especially if a handful of Hackle-Lo was the going rate for House Redoran jobs.

As I walked to Caius Cosades' house, I took stock of my current situation. On the minus side, I'd thrown away a promising career in a moment of self-righteous anger, not to mention pissing off one of the most powerful men in Vvardenfell and destroying my chances of getting back home. On the plus side, I had a new House: a House of honourable humourless bastards who thought nothing of sending me on a day-long expedition to deal with a couple of sodding mudcrabs. Without payment. Ah yes, life was good.

I greeted Caius in his skooma-filled house, and ended up telling him the entire story over a mug of tea. (He _still_ wasn't wearing a shirt.) I guess I should have known not to expect sympathy, but he didn't have to laugh _quite_ so heartily at the story of Crassius Curio and my request for 'sponsorship'.

"Be careful, Ada," he chortled, wiping the tears from his eyes. "You don't want to get a reputation for throwing vases at Great House councillors. Might earn you some unwanted attention."

I glared at him. "Did you actually have some orders, or did you invite me here just to make fun of me?"

"Sorry." He shook his head, calming down a little. "So you're a Redoran, now, eh? Well, not to interfere in your affairs, but I'd recommend you stay on your best behaviour from now on. From what I know of the Redorans, they won't be so easily bought off."

"I'll do my best," I said, with a sigh. "So what did you want me to do next?"

Caius motioned to a scroll of paper lying on the table beside him. "Well, I've thought it over," he said, "and I want you to interview three informants in Vivec City concerning the Nerevarine and the Sixth House. A Khajiit Thieves Guild operative named Addhiranirr, an Argonian called Huleeya, and a Temple priestess named Mehra Milo." He pushed the scroll across the table towards me. "Here are the details so you don't forget. By the way, Mehra is a friend of mine, so be careful when you speak to her – I don't want you getting her into trouble."

I couldn't be bothered to ask how he knew that these seemingly random people would have the information he wanted. No doubt he had his sources. "Right," I said. "By the way… were you planning to tell me what all this is _about_ at some point? All this business with extinct Houses and secret cults?"

He wagged a finger at me. "All will be revealed in good time. You need to learn patience if you want to be a Blade, Ada."

"Er. Caius." It was probably time I broke the news to him. "I take it you realise that I'm not going to be staying with the Blades?"

Caius raised his eyebrows slightly. He took a sip from his mug and laid it down on the table, settling back in his chair. "Oh? Planning to flee the Emperor's service, are you?"

"No," I said in exasperation. "I'll find out whatever you and the Emperor want to know about these cults, but after that I'm going back to Cyrodiil, all right? So I wouldn't start making any plans that involve me staying in Morrowind."

"Is that so?" he said quietly. "Well, we'll see."

I could tell this battle wasn't over yet, but there wasn't much I could do for the moment except head for Vivec. At least it would give me the chance to get a few more of my Pilgrimage visits done.

Before leaving for Vivec I went to deal with the outlaw Orc Dura Gra-Bol for the Fighters' Guild. It was easy enough to find her – she was living openly in a house on the east side of town – but unfortunately she refused to come quietly and attacked me, forcing me to kill her. When I returned to Eydis afterwards, she told me that she didn't have any more duties for someone of my rank, and I'd have to try the other regional Guild offices. To be honest, I was a little relieved.

I arrived in Vivec early in the afternoon. According to Caius' notes, the Argonian Huleeya could be found in the Foreign Quarter, so I decided to look for him first. After asking around I learned that he could often be found in the Black Shalk cornerclub in the Lower Waistworks.

When I entered the cornerclub, my heart immediately sank. A worried-looking Argonian, presumably Huleeya, was standing in a corner of the room, surrounded by three very unfriendly and thuggish-looking Dunmer. The only other person in the room, the bartender, was standing well back with an "I'm not getting involved in this" expression on his face. Clearly I had chosen a rather bad moment to drop in.

I approached the man who looked like their leader, and greeted him politely. He scowled at me. "Am I talking to you, fetcher? No. I am talking to the filthy lizard. So push off."

"Me and the 'filthy lizard' have business," I said, folding my arms.

The Dunmer snorted in disgust. "What, are you some kind of filthy lizard lover? You wanta give your little friend a big kiss?"

I hesitated for a moment, thinking things over. I was only lightly armed right now, and I didn't really want to start a fight in the middle of a club in Vivec (particularly a three-on-one fight). Besides, if I did there was a chance that Huleeya would get hurt. Maybe it was time to spread some of Caius' gold around.

"How about I give you a big bag of gold instead?" I suggested, keeping my voice calm and steady. "And then maybe you'll leave me and my friend to talk in peace. Deal?"

The three men exchanged glances. Finally, the leader shrugged. "Fine. You wanta take the lizard out of here, I'm not stopping you."

I handed over a hundred septims from my pouch, and motioned to Huleeya to follow me. We left the club in silence, the thugs' gazes boring into our backs. When the door clicked shut behind us, Huleeya breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you for persuading those troublesome fools to leave me alone," he said. "I would have slain them, but it would tarnish my honour, and I did not want to trouble my friend Saralis Golmis by fighting in his club."

_Yeah, right_, I thought, but I didn't say it. "What happened?"

He shrugged. "They simply wanted to fight. They hate my race, and the sight of a free Argonian offends them. It saddens and angers me."

I nodded gloomily. It always saddens me to see prejudice and racism directed at the so-called 'beast-folk', though I can kind of understand how they might seem scary if you haven't grown up amongst them like I did. The Argonians are basically giant walking lizards, and the feline Khajiit have a somewhat disturbing habit of referring to non-Khajiit as 'prey'. They don't mean anything by it, though (well, usually).

Anyway, time to get down to business. "You're Huleeya, right?"

"Yes. You said you had business to discuss with me?"

I lowered my voice, knowing that Ordinators tended to lurk round every corner in Vivec. "Caius Cosades sent me. He wants information about the Nerevarine cult."

"Ah." Huleeya nodded slowly. "Very well. Come with me to my friend Jobasha's bookstore, where we can talk in peace."

We walked to a bookstore on the other side of the waistworks. Once inside, Huleeya drew me into a secluded corner and we sat down.

"Yes, thank you very much. We should be free from distraction here." He took a sheaf of folded notes from his pocket. "What is it you wish to know about the Nerevarine cult?"

I sighed, wondering where to begin. "Well, to start with, perhaps you could tell me a little more about how the cult got started?"

"You have heard of Lord Nerevar, of course." I nodded. "Well, to understand the Nerevarine cult, you must understand the history of the Ashlanders. Nerevar means something very different to them from what he means to Dunmer of the Great Houses."

"In what way?"

"In the First Era, the nomadic Ashlanders and the settled Dunmer clans were much alike," he explained, "but after the First Council and the formation of the Great Houses, Ashlanders have been steadily forced into the poorest and most hostile lands. Now they look to the prophesied return of Nerevar for a restoration of their ancient rights and traditions. They say that when they joined Nerevar in the Battle of Red Mountain, he swore on his great Ring, One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star, to honour the ways of the Spirits and rights of the Land."

"So they believe that one day he'll be reborn, and…"

"…fulfil his promises to the Tribes, yes."

Ah, yes, this all sounded very familiar. A mistreated and downtrodden people, harking back to an imagined Golden Age to escape the harsh realities of their lives, dreaming of the day when some ancient hero would return and magically make things right again. It was all rather sad, really.

"And the Houses, what do they believe?"

Huleeya sighed. "Well, the Houses follow the Temple, and the Temple treats the Nerevarine prophecies as heresy. And the punishment for heresy is imprisonment and execution."

I sat bolt upright. "What? I thought Morrowind's treaty with the Empire was supposed to guarantee religious freedom?"

"In theory, yes," he said, smiling rather sourly. "But the Nerevarine cult is hostile to the Empire, so the Empire does not interfere when the Temple persecutes the cult. Ashlanders hate the Temple, and particularly the Ordinators, for their ruthless treatment of Nerevarine cultists."

I sat back in my chair, trying to take this in. As if things weren't bad enough already, it would seem that I'd got myself involved with a bunch of fanatical religious extremists. It almost made me have second thoughts about doing any more pilgrimages for them – though on the other hand, maybe it was all the more reason to get them done as soon as possible. I certainly didn't want anyone suspecting _me_ of heresy.

"Er." I swallowed nervously. "Just what, exactly, would you have to do for the Temple to declare you a heretic?"

"Well, for example, some in the past have claimed to be the reincarnated Nerevar," he said. "The most recent is an Ashlander girl named Peakstar, a figure of legend among the Wastes tribes for the last 30 years. The Temple says these 'false Incarnates' disprove the prophecies, but the cult cites their appearance as proof of Nerevar's coming rebirth."

"And what happened to Peakstar?"

He shrugged. "Nobody knows. She disappeared, and has not been seen in more than twenty years now. The Temple claims she is dead, but no body was ever found."

"Well, thanks for your time, Huleeya," I said as I got to my feet, taking the notes he'd prepared for Caius. "You've been very helpful." He'd certainly told me plenty, including some things which I'd really have preferred not to know. I'd be even more nervous of the Ordinators now.

Addhiranirr, the Khajiit thief, was the next person on my list. I was told that she lived somewhere in the St. Olms canton, which was quite a long walk away, so I went to the Foreign Quarter gondolier to ask if he could take me to St. Olms.

"No," he said.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"I can take you as far as the Arena," he said, "and you can cross the bridge from there. Or take another gondola, if you like. But I don't go as far as St. Olms."

I looked at him in disbelief. "Couldn't I just pay you a little bit extra to go to St. Olms?"

"No."

Grinding my teeth, I handed over the fare for the Arena. Luckily the St. Olms canton was the next one over, so it was just a short walk over the bridge when I arrived. I made my way up to the Waistworks, where I was surprised to be greeted by a well-dressed Imperial holding some papers.

"Good afternoon, sister," he said with a pleasant smile. "I'm looking for a friend of mine, a female Khajiit named Addhiranirr. Do you know where I can find her?"

Addhiranirr? What a bizarre coincidence. "Er, no," I said truthfully. "I don't know where to find her."

"I see," he said, nodding. "Well, perhaps some other good citizen can tell me where to find her."

Well, that was weird, I thought as he walked away. Was he after her for the same reason I was? Surely not.

Once the Imperial was safely out of sight, I approached a Dark Elf resident and asked about Addhiranirr. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe that name does sound a little familiar. For some reason, I just can't seem to remember."

Sighing, I handed him some more of Caius' coins, and he grinned. "Okay, I know Addhiranirr. And if I know Addhiranirr, she'll be staying out of sight as long as that Census and Excise agent is lurking about." _Ah_, I thought. "Probably down in the underworks. Look for trapdoors down from the canalworks level."

"The _sewers_?" I asked in horror.

"Yeah, that's right. Not scared of a little dirt, are you, Cyrodiil?"

Oh, Talos, why _me_? I hated sewers more than almost anything else in existence. I'd had to go down into the Imperial City's sewers a couple of times before, and it had taken me _days_ to get the smell out.

I prepared myself thoroughly before braving the underworks, changing into my oldest, shabbiest clothes and buying some perfumed oils from the canton's alchemist. After that I went down to the next level of the canton, the canalworks, and managed to locate a trapdoor into the sewer. One of the Divines must have been with me, as I found Addhiranirr almost straight away.

"Great," she said, when I explained who I was and what I wanted. "So Caius says to you, 'Speak with Addhiranirr,' and you have done this thing. But Addhiranirr will not talk to you about the Nerevarine or the Sixth House cult, and because why?"

"Why?"

She scowled. "Because Addhiranirr is, at this moment, very distracted by a nice Census and Excise agent, who also wants to speak with her."

"What about?" I asked, though I'd already guessed the answer.

"You do not know this?" she said scornfully. "They are the collectors of the Emperor's taxes and tariffs. And the Emperor has outlawed trade in many things, like Dwemer artifacts and ebony, and a Census and Excise agent will enjoy being a pest about such things. If you want Addhiranirr to help you, make the bad agent go away – _then_ she will tell you things."

I went back to the Waistworks and changed my clothes again, wondering what I could say to the agent to make him go away. All I could think of was to say that she'd been seen leaving the canton, and hope he believed me.

When I found the tax agent again, still wandering around the waistworks, he smiled at me. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Well, I've been asking around about your Khajiit friend," I said as innocently as possible, "and I heard she just took a gondola to the mainland. Seems you missed her, I'm afraid."

"What a disappointment," he sighed. "But thank you for your time. I was just heading back to the mainland myself, anyway, and maybe I'll run into her there."

I felt a little guilty as I watched him go. I'm not the kind who enjoys ratting people out to tax agents (and they do exist), but I don't particularly approve of smuggling either, even if the law _is_ unfair. But hey, if Caius chose to associate with Thieves' Guild people, there wasn't much I could do about it.

Addhiranirr smiled gleefully when I told her I'd dealt with the Census and Excise agent. "Really? This is a good trick. And Addhiranirr does not ask you how you do this trick, because Addhiranirr does not want to know. But now Addhiranirr is feeling quite good, and happy to talk to you about the cults."

"Do you know about the Sixth House cult?"

She nodded. "This Addhiranirr knows about, because it is about smuggling. Some smart smugglers are suddenly too busy for their old clients, because they have a new employer, the Sixth House, who pays _very_ well."

"What are they smuggling?"

"Addhiranirr doesn't know, because they are very secret. And this is odd, because these smugglers are always loud and bragging, and now they hush up like fat-bellied kitties full of sweet-meats."

Hmm, interesting. "You don't know any more than this? Nothing about people called 'Sleepers', for instance?" She shook her head. "What about the Nerevarine cult?"

Addhiranirr let out a mocking laugh. "Yes, Addhiranirr knows this Nerevarine cult is just silly superstition. So you tell Caius this: Nobody in her right mind pays any attention to this moon-yeowling, prophecies and ancient heroes reborn and other silliness. Fuzzy tales for little kitties."

Well, it was good to find _someone_ else who saw this Nerevarine nonsense for what it was. From what I'd heard so far, there didn't seem to be anything in it except wishful thinking on the part of the Ashlanders – certainly nothing that could pose a real threat to the Empire. Why Caius took such an interest in it was beyond me.

I took a vigorous bath and smeared myself in perfume before setting off to find Caius' final informant, Mehra Milo, in the Temple canton. In his notes, Caius had warned me not to ask anyone about Mehra, as he didn't want to draw attention to the fact that she was speaking to an outlander. He'd described her as 'the priestess with the copper hair and copper eyes', so that was all I had to go on.

As I walked to the bridge which joined the two cantons, enjoying the cool evening air, I spotted something which froze me in my tracks. High in the air above the magnificent Temple building was a massive – and I do mean _massive_ – piece of rock, vaguely oval in shape and easily the size of a small moon. It seemed to be floating in the air of its own accord, and looking carefully I could see doors carved into it and balconies attached to the surface. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before in my entire life.

"Excuse me," I said to a nearby gondolier, pointing. "What is _that_?"

"That is the Ministry of Truth, outlander."

"How does it…?" I made an upwards gesture with my hands.

"It is a celestial body suspended there by the mighty power of Vivec," he said with an entirely straight face. "Legend says that should the populace cease to worship Vivec, it will fall and raze the city."

Okay, it sounded ridiculous, but I couldn't think of a better explanation. "And what are those doors in it?"

He smiled grimly. "The Ministry of Truth was hollowed out to provide a prison and re-education centre operated by the Temple Ordinators for the correction of heretics."

'Correction of heretics'? Okay, that was it: the Temple were officially a bunch of utter lunatics. 'Re-education centre'? '_Ministry of Truth_'? Why didn't they just call it the 'Inquisition', for crying out loud?

Suddenly I began to feel a little dizzy. I hadn't eaten dinner, but I didn't think that was the reason; it was more that I was having trouble absorbing all this new information in a single day. The relative normality of life in Morrowind so far had lulled me into a false sense of security; it was only at times like this that I was reminded of what an incredibly weird place it really was.

Perhaps I ought to go back to the Foreign Quarter to eat and rest, then speak to Mehra the next morning. Then I could complete my next three Pilgrimages, instruct my bank on how much to pay to House Hlaalu, and hopefully get back to Balmora in time for afternoon tea with Caius. I'd achieved plenty for one day, after all.

I don't know if it was just due to nervousness, but that night I had another strange dream about the man in the loincloth and golden mask. This one was even more vivid and disturbing, as this time I could actually hear him speak: "There are many rooms in the house of the Master. Be easy, for from the hands of your enemies I have delivered you."

He stood aside, revealing a body lying on a table lit by candles, and to my horror I realised that it was me. I appeared to be dead, but when I touched the body – cringing, and trying not to shudder – I saw it draw breath, open its eyes, and rise from the table. The next moment I was lying in bed awake, gasping for breath and swearing yet again not to eat rich food so late in the evening.


	11. Chapter 11: The Pilgrim's Progress

A/N: Apologies for the huge amounts of exposition in early part of this chapter. I've tried to make it sound like an actual conversation rather than a lecture, but there's no doubt that while Morrowind is a great game, it has a massive infodump problem.

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**Chapter 11: The Pilgrim's Progress**

In the morning I looked through my copy of _The Pilgrim's Path_ to check I had everything needed for the Vivec pilgrimages. All the shrines were in the Temple canton, so I was hoping to get all three done at once after speaking to my last informant. Two of the offerings were easy enough to get hold of – 100 gold and a Rising Force potion – but the Shrine of Courtesy in the Puzzle Canal required a silver blade. Sighing, I went to the smith and purchased a silver shortsword, which I hoped would be acceptable.

After that I went back to the Temple canton to see Mehra Milo, smiling nervously at the Ordinators who greeted me along the way ("A fine day to you, Mr. Ordinator! Just minding my own business here, not doing anything heretical!") The Library of Vivec was in the Hall of Wisdom, a section of the administrative offices on the canalside level of the canton. After wandering around its dark, twisty and confusing passages for a while (ever hear of _windows_, guys?), I eventually found the right place. I couldn't ask anyone about Mehra directly, but I did see a Dunmer woman in a dark-blue robe who fit Caius' description.

I cautiously approached her, wondering how to ascertain who she was without asking her outright. "Er… excuse me, _sera_? I was wondering if you could help me."

"What is it you want, outlander?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm… looking for a book. For my friend Caius."

Her eyes widened, and I knew immediately that I'd got the right person. "I see," she said carefully. "And what sort of book would your friend be looking for?"

"Well, he's very interested in Morrowind history and legends," I said. "Ancient prophecies, secret cults, that sort of thing…"

A smile spread across her face. "Very well, come with me. I'm sure we can find something suitable."

I couldn't help feeling rather proud of myself as I followed Mehra to a secluded area in the back of the library. This was genuine spy stuff, just like in novels. Next thing you knew I'd be breaking into vaults to steal secret documents, and getting captured and tortured for – OK, hopefully not that last part.

Once we were out of hearing behind some bookcases, Mehra let down her guard and smiled. "So Caius sent you? I assume that you want information of some kind?"

I explained what I needed to know about the cults, and she nodded. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about a Sixth House cult, but I can tell you about the Nerevarine cult."

"Okay," I said, interested to hear about the cult from the perspective of someone connected with the Temple. "Can you tell me why the Temple persecutes the cult? It seems harmless enough to me."

Mehra sighed. "Well, the Nerevarines say the Tribunal are false gods. To be honest, I've never understood why the Temple wastes so much energy on them – the faithful cannot be shaken by such attacks, and the Ashlanders are just ignorant savages. But with the erosion of faith among the Dunmer, the militant wing of the Temple is increasingly fierce in its attacks on heretics."

"What do you mean about the erosion of faith?"

"Since the Empire, some Dunmer have turned away from the Temple," she said. "Faith is the source of the divine power that sustains the Tribunal in their battle with Dagoth Ur. Many believe that is why Dagoth Ur grows stronger, and blight storms and monsters threaten the land."

Maybe it was just natural cynicism, but that sounded like an excuse to me. "Hold on," I said. "House Redoran are strong supporters of the Temple, right? So why are the blight storms _worse_ in Redoran areas?"

"I cannot say." Not a very satisfactory answer. "And then, of course, there are the Dissident Priests…"

"Dissident Priests?"

Mehra hesitated for a moment, then lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "The Dissident Priests dispute Temple doctrine on the Nerevarine prophecies. What's more, they challenge the purity and divinity of the Tribunal. They suggest that their powers are sorcerous, not divine, and perhaps even akin to the powers of Dagoth Ur."

"Seriously? Wow." That sounded like some pretty controversial stuff, I had to admit.

"They also condemn the arbitrary power of the Ordinators," Mehra continued, "and accuse the Temple hierarchy of self-interest and corruption."

_Aha_, I thought. I wonder what _really_ bothers the Temple hierarchy most? Religious doctrine, or threats to their own power and influence?

I gave Mehra a hard look. "Are you one of these 'Dissident Priests', Mehra? Is that why you're passing information to Caius?"

Mehra didn't answer the question directly. Instead, after a pause, she said, "Caius is a dear friend. Like me, he admires the best traditions of the Temple – charity for the poor, education for the ignorant, protection for the weak – but like me, he distrusts the Ordinators and he suspects the Temple is hiding something. He serves the Emperor, but he also loves Morrowind, and he sees the failing virtues of the Temple as a threat to Morrowind's political stability."

I sank my chin into my hands, thinking all this over. "You should get a copy of the book _Progress of Truth_ for Caius," Mehra said at last. "It describes the beliefs of the Dissident Priests. As for me, I am bound to come to the attention of the Ordinators sooner or later, and I fear I must go into hiding. When you return to Caius, tell him I am worried, and that if something goes wrong, I will leave a message under the code word 'amaya'."

My head was starting to ache as I left the Hall of Wisdom and emerged into the fresh air. Honestly, this was all getting a bit too involved for me, what with rebel priests and religious schisms and accusations of heresy. All I ever wanted to do was run around and hit things with swords.

Luckily, what happened next was enough to take my mind off this secret-agent business for quite a while. I'd promised myself I would do the Pilgrimages, and since it was still quite early in the morning, I didn't see any reason to put it off. I walked to the Shrine of Daring, on top of the Temple canton, and donated the Potion of Rising Force I'd bought ages ago in the Foreign Quarter (I still hadn't managed to work out what it was for). Then I recited the 'Grace of Daring' written on the shrine.

For a moment, nothing obvious happened except that I suddenly felt quite a bit lighter. At first I thought the shrine had cast another Feather spell on me, but when I started to walk away it occurred to me that I couldn't actually feel the ground beneath my feet. I looked down in bemusement, to see that I was actually hovering an inch or two _above_ the hard flagstones.

I blinked, convinced that I must be imagining things. It made no difference. Tentatively, I took couple of steps forward and 'upward' as if trying to climb an invisible staircase. It worked.

I was _flying_.

I drew a shaky breath, unable to believe this was happening. Surely it couldn't be a dream? I leapt upwards, stretching my arms towards the sky, and found myself soaring towards the clouds as if I were lighter than air. I don't think I've ever experienced anything quite equal to the pure joy I felt at that moment.

"_Wheeeeee_!" I shrieked, suddenly five years old again. I flapped my arms like a bird, and turned a couple of somersaults in the air. "I'm _flying_! I'm – " I broke off, suddenly realising that someone might be able to hear me. But the only people in sight were a couple of Ordinators far away on the Ministry of Truth, who either hadn't seen me or pretended not to.

So that was how they got up there, I thought. And that was what the guard at Tel Branora, the Telvanni tower, had meant about flying. Was this the spell that had been banned by the 'Levitation Act' in Cyrodiil? If so, I didn't blame the mages for kicking up a fuss.

Suddenly it occurred to me that the spell could wear off again at any moment, and I hastily lowered myself until I felt my feet touch the ground. Even so, I could still move at twice my normal speed, and with almost no effort at all. I took a run up the steps of the massive Palace of Vivec, where the next of my three Pilgrimage shrines could be found.

The Shrine of Generosity was easy enough; I just donated 100 septims and it cast another blessing which I couldn't identify. I paused for a moment to look at the sturdy-looking door of the Palace – was there really a living God inside there? Somehow I doubted I would ever be allowed in to see.

To each side of the steps were five grates leading into the Puzzle Canal, one set into each tier of the Palace. I removed the cuirass I was wearing – I wasn't going to risk that getting rusty – and floated over the right-hand barrier, wondering which grate to enter. In the end I chose the middle one pretty much at random and waded through into the Puzzle Canal.

Inside I found myself standing in the canal itself, almost chest-deep in water. I swam around for a minute looking for a way out before realising that I could simply fly upwards and onto the bank. There was no shrine to Vivec to be seen, but in a nearby tunnel I found another loose grate leading into a different level of the Canal.

This room was a massive chamber with a stone 'island' in the middle of a deep pool. On top of the island I found a shrine with no Grace to read, only a cryptic message: _Breathe the Waters of His Glory and the Way is Made Clear._ Was it referring to a Water Breathing spell? But I didn't know any.

I looked around for something that would give me an idea of what to do next. At the other end of the room I could see a passage through into a second chamber, but it appeared to be blocked by some kind of magical force field. Sighing, I removed my pack, waded back into the water, and ducked down under the surface, holding my breath for as long as I could without suffocating.

Nothing happened. I resurfaced and, suppressing every survival instinct known to humankind, attempted to breathe in water through my nostrils and mouth. All it did was leave me coughing and spluttering, desperate for air.

I tried again. This time I took in so much water that my lungs felt as if they were burning up, but still nothing happened. Surely the Temple didn't expect pilgrims to drown themselves just to visit a shrine?

Gritting my teeth, I ducked under the surface again for one last attempt. Unfortunately I must somehow have drifted under one of the stone pillars that surrounded the island, because when I tried to resurface, I banged my head against something very hard. I actually blacked out for a few seconds before waking to find myself floating on the surface of the water, face upwards. Rather surprisingly, the Levitation spell was still active.

As I hauled myself out of the pool and chugged a healing potion, I noticed that the force-field blocking off the passage had disappeared. I walked through into the next chamber, which contained only a couple of broken pillars and a large staircase. At the top of the steps was yet another shrine, presumably the Shrine of Courtesy, and – good gods, was that a _Dremora_?

I took a closer look at it (him?): ebony-black skin, glowing eyes, horns and an impressive set of Daedric armour. Yep, this was either a Dremora or a guy in a very convincing costume. I hadn't realised the servants of Mehrunes Dagon, Daedric Prince of Destruction, were known for their courtesy; most of the ones I'd met previously had shown more interest in hacking me to pieces than making polite conversation.

Very, very cautiously, I made my way up the steps to the shrine, expecting to be attacked by the fierce-looking Daedra at any moment. "Er, hello?"

"Are you here on the pilgrimage?" he asked. "Read the shrine."

I read the inscription on the shrine. '_Here Vivec gave a plain silver longsword to the Daedra Lord Mehrunes Dagon, rather than dishonour himself by fighting an unarmed foe._'

"Ah, yes. The sword." I took out the silver shortsword I'd bought earlier that morning. "It's actually a shortsword, not a longsword, but…"

The Dremora was shaking his head. "I can only accept longswords."

"What? But I thought…" I flicked open my _Pilgrim's Path_ book at the appropriate page and read it again, more carefully this time. '_The Dremora Krazzt is found in the centre of the Puzzle Canal, and will accept a plain silver longsword if spoken to with courtesy._' Oh, drat it all.

"Wouldn't a shortsword do instead?" I begged. "Please? Maybe if I ask really, really nicely?"

He looked at me through narrowed eyes, unmoved. "I can only accept plain silver longswords. I didn't make the rules, mortal."

Gods. I couldn't believe I was standing here, at the shrine of a god I didn't even really worship, arguing over the technicalities of a pilgrimage with a bloody _Dremora_. I was just about to ask the Daedra what the hell I was supposed to do now, when he leaned towards me and said in a low voice, "There is one in the chest over there."

I walked to the nearby wooden chest, keeping one eye on the Dremora just in case, and opened the lid. Inside were two silver longswords, as promised. I took one of them out of the chest and carried it over to Krazzt, who nodded.

"As you see, I am unarmed. But you are brave and gallant." Was that a slight eye-roll I saw there? "Will you give me your longsword so that I may stand a chance against your might?"

"Of course, friend Daedra," I replied politely, fighting a sudden urge to laugh. After all, the whole thing was pretty ridiculous.

Krazzt inclined his head slightly as he took the sword. "Yes, I accept this sword. Thank you, mortal; you have the grace of courtesy. You should read the inscription on the shrine to complete your pilgrimage."

"That's all?" I asked, a little surprised. "We don't actually have to fight?"

He shook his head with a sigh. "Just read the shrine and leave. I tire of your mortal presence."

"Very courteous", I mumbled, as I approached the shrine to recite the Grace of Courtesy. It cast another enchantment which I didn't recognise and I was finally ready to leave, not a moment too soon. All I wanted was to get myself into a hot bath and some clean, dry clothes as soon as possible.

I blinked as I emerged into the hot midday sun outside the Palace. Was it really only lunchtime? After all the hassle of dealing with the Puzzle Canal I felt almost ready for bed already.

I ate my midday meal in Vivec, then went to look for a copy of _Progress of Truth_ in the bookstore belonging to the Khajiit Jobasha. He had a copy, but at a very expensive 150 drakes – then again, it _was_ technically a banned book. And I could always sell that silver shortsword to get some cash. After haggling a little to bring down the price, I reluctantly paid over the money, and then returned to Balmora through the Mages' Guild guide.

"So," said Masalinie Merian, when I teleported into the Balmora guild. "This Caius Cosades."

I frowned. "What about him?"

"People are…" She coughed delicately. "People are saying that you've been seen visiting his house quite a few times recently."

"And?"

"Well, there are rumours that you're, um… _seeing_ each other."

"_What_?" I barked, so loudly that several other mages looked round to see what was going on. "Are you joking?"

"So you're not, then?"

Sheogorath, I couldn't believe this. "Of _course_ not!" I gasped. "That skooma-sucking old coot? Are you crazy?"

"Well, I must say that he didn't seem like your type," she admitted. "But if you're not, er… what _do_ you do when you visit his house, then?"

"Well, we… we talk." To my utter horror, I realised that I was blushing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ajira and Estirdalin, two of the other mages, exchange knowing glances.

"What about?"

I couldn't exactly tell her, could I? "Just… stuff."

"Stuff," she said, with a nod and a wink. "I see." Aaaargh!

As if things couldn't get bad _enough_, I thought, as I walked to Caius' house. Not only was I forced to work for this guy on pain of execution, but now the local gossips had started rumours that we were 'seeing each other'. All too much of each other, no doubt. What had I ever done to deserve this?

Shirtless Wonder greeted me at his door with that smug expression on his face. "Caius," I snapped, as soon as I was over the threshold. "Did you _know_ that people think we're sleeping together?"

I saw his lips twitch slightly. "I had heard a few rumours to that effect, yes."

"And you didn't _say_ anything?" I was going to kill him.

"Well, what should I have told them?" he asked mildly. "That I'm the Imperial Spymaster for Morrowind and you're one of my agents?"

"Oh, it's all right for _you_, isn't it?" I huffed. "You come out of this pretty well, don't you? People think you're shagging a girl young enough to be your granddaughter. _I'm_ the one everyone thinks is completely insane – "

"Ada." He held up a hand. "Did you speak to the informants in Vivec?"

I wrenched out the _Progress of Truth_ book, Huleeya's notes, and the journal notes I'd made during my conversations with Mehra and Addhiranirr, and flung them down on the table in front of him. "Here's everything you need. And now I'm leaving, before people can start any _more_ rumours about us!"

"Ada, wait!" he said sharply, as I made for the door.

I swung round, fixing him with a malevolent glare. "_What_?"

"Thank you for the notes," he said. "I'm promoting you to Journeyman. You're doing good work. And here are 200 drakes." He lobbed me a money pouch, which I caught.

"Oh," I said. "Well. Thanks."

"Go out and treat yourself to a new pair of shoes." He smiled. "And go do some more jobs for the guilds, just to keep your cover story current, then come back in a little while and I'll have new orders for you."

Very foolishly, I left the house while still holding the money pouch in my hand. It was just my luck that my old friend Sottilde from the Thieves' Guild happened to be passing by at that moment.

"Hello, Ada," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Visiting Caius again?" She'd clearly heard the rumours. I tried to conceal the small bag in my hand, but she'd already spotted it, and her mouth dropped open. "He _pays_ you to…?"

"NO! Merciful Gods, no!" This was getting out of hand. I looked around desperately, hoping no one else could hear us. "Look, I'm _working_ for him, all right?"

"Ohhhh," she said, her eyes widening in sudden understanding. "Is this about the skooma, then?"

Well, it wasn't a great excuse, but it was better than nothing. I nodded reluctantly, trying my best to look like someone who'd had the truth dragged out of them against their will. "Just keep quiet about it, okay?"

"Well, that explains a lot," she said, and walked on.

Okay, I thought, something had to be done. There was nothing for it but to leave Balmora until these insane rumours died down. I decided that now might be a good time to throw myself wholeheartedly into my duties for House Redoran.

Neminda greeted me with her usual cheerful smile when I entered the Council Hall in Ald'ruhn. "Hello, Ada. Are you looking for more duties?"

"I was, as a matter of fact."

She thought for a moment. "Well, I do need someone to deliver a Cure Disease potion to a Redoran outpost."

Ah, the tried-and-true courier mission. Delivering packages halfway across the country never gets old, I tell you. "Where shall I take it?"

"To Theldyn Virith in Ald Velothi." I gave her my map so that she could mark the location of the village… right up on the north coast, miles from anywhere. "You can take the silt strider as far as Gnisis, but you'll have to walk the rest of the way, I'm afraid."

I suppressed a sigh, hoping I'd at least get some money at the end of this. Neminda either guessed what I was thinking or remembered the mudcrab mission, because she added, "You will not be paid for this, by the way."

"Oh."

"If you wish to advance in Redoran, you must be willing to perform tasks for the good of the House, not just for personal gain."

"All right, I get the – "

"The warm glow of satisfaction from a job well done should be payment enough." Okay, now she was just taking the piss.

"Absolutely," I said with a sigh, as she struggled to hide a smile. "Since I'm not getting paid, would it be alright for me to go on doing jobs for the Fighters' Guild, and maybe the Legion? I do have to eat, you know." (Actually I could get free bed and board at the Guilds, but you know what I mean.)

She shrugged. "As long as it doesn't interfere with your duties to Redoran. The Fighters' Guild are honourable enough, and I've no objection to the Legion – my father was a Legionnaire, actually."

"Really?" I asked with interest. "Are your family from Cyrodiil, then?"

"No, Hammerfell."

"Crowns or Forebears?"

"Forebears, of course. My father would hardly have joined the Legion otherwise." She handed me the Cure Disease potion. "Off you go, then. Good luck."

I left the Skar building as darkness was falling. As I walked back to the Fighters' Guild I saw a female Dunmer striding purposefully towards me, and my heart sank as I saw the expression on her face – a distant, glassy stare that was all too familiar. "I am a Sleeper, one among thousands," she droned, grasping me firmly by the shoulder. "Dagoth Ur calls you, Ada, and you cannot – "

Oh no, not _again_! "GET OFF ME!" I shouted, so loudly that several passers-by turned to see what was going on.

A Redoran guard strode up. "Is this woman bothering you, outlander?"

"Just a little," I said through clenched teeth, trying my best to detach myself from the Sleeper's grasp. She was still mumbling on as if she hadn't heard me.

With the help of a couple of passers-by, the guard managed to pull the woman away from me. I glared at her as she stood there, those horrible glassy eyes still fixed unblinkingly on mine. "How does Dagoth Ur know my name? What does he want from me?"

"He is the Lord, and Father of the Mountain," she said calmly. "He sleeps, but when he wakes, we shall rise from our dreams, shall sweep our land clean of the _n'wah_. Why have you denied him? As Lord Dagoth has said. 'All shall greet him as flesh, or as dust.'"

I felt a shudder run down my spine at that last sentence. "Get lost, you crazy bitch."

Without another word she turned and walked away. I turned back to the guard. "What the hell is going on with these 'Sleepers'? I've seen them in Balmora as well."

He nodded sombrely. "Some are locals seemingly gone mad, others are strangers we can't trace. Some of them have been attacking non-Dunmer with clubs. Those we capture alive have complete amnesia, with no idea where they are or what's going on."

"What did she mean about 'sweep our land clean of the _n'wah_'?

"_N'wah_ is a Dunmer word meaning 'foreigner' or 'slave'," he said, after a brief hesitation. Ah, so _that_ was what it meant! "It seems these 'Sleepers' seek to drive all foreigners out of Morrowind. Be careful around them, outlander."

"Damn right I will," I muttered, still a little shaken. Three 'Sleeper' encounters within a couple of weeks, in two different cities? This was getting really disturbing. If I didn't manage to get out of Morrowind soon, I was going to have to start watching my back.

I went to bed that night with a headache, and slept very badly. Yet again I had one of those creepy dreams – or perhaps 'nightmares' was a better word – this one even more vivid and frightening than the last. Golden Mask Guy was there again, speaking to me, though I couldn't understand a word he was saying. His tone seemed pleasant enough, but I got the distinct feeling that he was trying to cast a spell on me.

In the morning I couldn't remember how the dream ended. I sighed, remembering the dream I'd had on the prison ship while travelling to Morrowind. Why couldn't I have Mysterious Female Voice back again? I still had no idea who she was, but at least she didn't scare me the way Golden Mask Guy did.

I was disturbed enough by last night's Sleeper encounter to go and report it to Caius before starting my Redoran mission – being very careful not to be seen entering his house, of course. He nodded grimly when I described what had happened. "Yes, I've heard about these 'Sleepers' – there've been several attacks recently, and a few foreigners have been killed by them already. Watch yourself, Ada."

"Do you think they could be something to do with the Sixth House Cult?" I asked.

"Could well be," he said, nodding. "I'll try to find out more. Was there anything else?"

I opened my mouth to say "no", then hesitated. "Well. This is going to sound strange, but… I've been having some rather bad dreams."

Caius looked at me as if I were mad. "Would you like a comfort blanket?"

"No, seriously," I said. "Really _vivid_ dreams. More like… visions, in fact."

"Visions?" he said with a sudden frown. "Tell me about it."

I described the dreams to Caius, and was actually surprised by how much it seemed to worry him. "Not going loopy on me, are you Ada?" he said abruptly. "A word of advice. In Morrowind, if you have disturbing dreams, the Temple says you're crazy and want to lock you up. And if you have disturbing dreams and think they _mean_ something, then they think you're a prophet or a witch, and – "

"…want to lock you up?"

"Exactly. So take my advice, and keep a lid on it."

"They're just _dreams_," I muttered, a little defensively. "It's not like I think they're _real_ or anything. I just wish I could find a way to make them stop."

"Try a sleeping potion," he suggested. "When did these dreams start, by the way?"

I paused. "Well… actually I had one on the ship over from the mainland, but it was different to the others. Just some woman talking about how I'd 'been chosen' for something or other."

"'Chosen', eh?" he said, looking hard at me. "Interesting. Very interesting."

I couldn't be bothered to ask what he meant, since I knew by now that I wouldn't get a satisfactory answer. I was just about to leave when I thought of something else. "Oh, Caius? One more thing. Have you heard anything more about the… unrest… in the Imperial City?"

He shook his head, looking grave. "Nothing much. There haven't been any more riots, but things are still tense. I've heard mutterings about recalling the Legions if things get much worse."

Recalling the Legions? Good Gods, things had to be really bad if they were considering something as drastic as that. Caius looked closely at me, seeing the concern in my face. "You got family back in the City?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to look as upset as I actually felt.

"So have I," he said quietly.

Both of us were silent for a moment. "I _am_ going back, you know," I said at last, glaring at him.

Caius shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you'll decide you like Morrowind better."

"What?" I let out a snort of laughter, almost forgetting about the Imperial City riots for a moment. "Yeah, _right_."

"You never know," he said with a wink. "Now get working on that cover story." I threw him one last dirty look and stalked out of the house, shaking my head. Decide of my own free will to stay in Morrowind, land of ash storms and kamikaze birds and evil immortal beings living inside volcanoes? He had to be joking.


	12. Chapter 12: You're In The Army Now

**Chapter 12: You're In The Army Now**

I didn't want to delay my Redoran mission any longer, as I could imagine that whoever needed the Cure Disease potion was feeling pretty miserable right now. I returned to Ald'ruhn and bought passage on that evening's silt strider to Gnisis, hoping fervently that we wouldn't run into any ash storms along the way.

Just around dawn we arrived in Gnisis, a large village in the West Gash. It was surrounded by mountains and built in the same style as Ald'ruhn, though I could see the stone towers of an Imperial fortress in the distance. The caravaner told me that many Gnisis citizens were 'Velothi', the descendants of Ashlanders who had abandoned their nomadic lifestyles and settled in the area.

Two more of the Temple pilgrimage sites could be found near to Gnisis: the Shrine of Justice in the Gnisis Temple itself, and the Shrine of Valour in the Koal Cave a short way south. I decided to visit the Temple now and the other shrine when I returned from Ald Velothi. The Shrine of Justice required a Cure Common Disease potion as a donation; luckily I always carried a spare one with me on my travels, just in case. After visiting the shrine and stopping by the tradehouse for some breakfast and supplies, I left for Ald Velothi on foot.

I wasn't too pleased at the thought of yet more walking, but the journey went reasonably smoothly up until I was quite close to Ald Velothi. Then I rounded a corner and came upon an attractive Breton woman (why is it always Bretons?) standing by the side of a small pool and looking vaguely flustered and helpless. Glutton for punishment that I am, I stopped to ask if I could help.

"Why, thank you, m'lady," she simpered. "You see, I dropped my ring and I just can't seem to find it. I think it must have rolled down into this pool here." She pointed down into the murky water.

I suppose I ought to have known something was wrong when she called me 'm'lady' rather than the usual 'miss' or 'madam', but right now I had other things on my mind. "Look, I don't mean to be unkind," I said with a sigh, "but I'm on a fairly urgent mission right now. Is there any reason why you can't go in there and get it yourself?"

She blushed. "I can't go in to get it because I am expected at the keep shortly. You see, I'm a... dancer...and I can't very well smell like muckwater now can I?" I raised my eyebrows. "_Please_ could you get it for me? I'd be forever in your debt."

I was tempted to tell her to speak to me next time she had a _real_ problem, but I was in a relatively good mood that day and kindness won out. "Well, okay," I said, after a moment's hesitation. "I can't stay too long, but I'll have a look for you."

I removed my boots, rolled up my sleeves and the legs of my pants and waded into the muddy water. For a minute or so I wandered around the pool, until at last I felt something small and hard touch my foot. I bent down and scrabbled around in the silt, finally managing to retrieve the ring. "Ta-da!" I exclaimed, holding it up high. "Here's your ring, Miss – "

She interrupted me with a harsh laugh. "No good deed goes unpunished, outlander!"

Moments later I heard the unmistakeable thwack of an arrow against my helmet – which, luckily, I'd kept on. If I hadn't, I'd probably have been killed then and there.

I leapt aside, raising my shield to block the arrows as another one whizzed past my head. The Breton rushed at me with her dagger drawn, but I was ready for her and caught her a heavy blow across the ribs. As she staggered back, screaming, I shoved her down into the water before turning to look for the archer. No one was there.

I rushed forward, zigzagging to try and avoid the arrows, and ran straight into an invisible figure standing in front of me in the path. Since I couldn't see him/her at all, I could only slash around wildly with my sword in the hope of hitting something important. When my opponent finally fell dead, and the enchantment faded to reveal a Dunmer woman in light armour, the results were not pretty.

So much for helping people, I thought with a sigh. I couldn't see why they'd even bothered with the whole 'ring' business if their only intent was to rob me and kill me. As I bent to examine the woman's body, I noticed that she was wearing an amulet with a very powerful Chameleon enchantment, engraved with the words 'Amulet of Shadows'. I don't usually like to steal from my fallen foes, but this was simply too useful to pass up, so I took it and slipped it around my own neck before continuing on my way.

On reaching Ald Velothi, a tiny coastal village that was really no more than a hamlet, I delivered the Cure Disease potion to Theldyn Virith, the local Redoran sheriff. As I left the outpost, I heard a couple of locals discussing some rogue Ashlanders who'd set up camp nearby. "They took Madura Seran!" one of them exclaimed. "She was but a simple pilgrim. Someone needs to rescue her."

Ah, now this sounded a bit more like it. When I asked if I could help, they directed me to the Ashlander camp on top of the hill. I walked to the camp, where a man and a woman in rather bizarre clothing were standing outside a large tent. "Excuse me," I said to the woman, hoping she understood Tamrielic. "Would you be Ashlanders, by any chance?"

She gave me a distinctly unfriendly look. "Yes, I am Rawia Ashirbibi, wise-woman of my Ashlander tribe."

"Would you happen to know anything about a kidnapped pilgrim?"

She pointed towards the tent. "You will have to talk to Abassel. He's inside."

I entered the yurt, where a frightened-looking Dunmer woman was sitting on a bedroll, guarded by a male Ashlander. "Are you Madura Seran?" I asked her.

She nodded, too afraid to speak. I turned to the man. "Why have you kidnapped her? What do you want?"

"So, this pilgrim has value?" he said with a grin. "I will give her to you for 500 drakes."

I didn't want to start a fight, but I don't approve of paying ransoms to kidnappers – it only encourages them. "Give me some time to think about it," I told him, and left the camp.

We Imperials like to say that we always prefer to handle things non-violently if possible (though I must admit that our massive continent-spanning army makes this slightly suspect). Regardless, one of our inborn 'racial powers' – in addition to the Charm spell I'd used for my final Hlaalu mission – is the 'Star of the West', a handy stamina-draining spell that can be used to knock someone out quickly and cleanly. After a few minutes' thought I slipped on the Amulet of Shadows and cast the enchantment, then returned to the camp and re-entered the tent I'd just left. Inside, I quickly cast the Star of the West spell on Abassel and watched him slide to the ground before Madura's astonished eyes.

"Shhh," I whispered, as she shrank back in fear. "It's only me. I'll be back in a minute."

I slipped back out through the tent flap and crept up behind the male Ashlander warrior, then raised my sword and struck him as hard as I could on the head with the flat of the blade. He fell to the ground unconscious with no more than a grunt. Unfortunately this alerted the wise-woman, whom I probably ought to have attacked first, as the 'wise' part turned out to be all too accurate. After staring at her companion's body for a couple of seconds, she realised what was going on, and instantly flung a bolt of magicka in my direction.

I didn't have time to dodge the blast, and a moment later I felt my knees buckle under the crushing weight of a Burden spell. It wouldn't incapacitate me completely, but it would keep me rooted to the spot. I tried not to panic as I realised that the Chameleon spell would wear off within seconds, leaving me exposed and helpless. Since I wasn't close enough to the woman to attack her with my sword, my only option was to quickly take down the bow I carried and fire off an arrow.

I'm not that great a shot at the best of times, and my hastily-fired arrow only managed to hit her in the arm. She let out a cry of agony and stumbled back a few steps, clutching her arm, until my second poorly-aimed shot whizzed past her ear. Finally realising that she didn't have much chance against an invisible archer, she turned and fled.

Once the Ashlander woman was out of sight, I dashed into the tent and grabbed Madura by the arm. "Come on, let's get of here. Follow me."

We ran back to the village together, only stopping for breath when we were inside the Redoran outpost. "Thank you, outlander," Madura wheezed, as I handed her my water canteen. "I'm very grateful to you."

Theldyn Virith was quite impressed as well. "I believe the Imperial Legion was planning to send agents to rescue Madura," he told me. "I will write a message for you to take to General Darius, the fort commander, telling him that it's no longer necessary. Perhaps he may reward you."

There was no inn in Ald Velothi, but one of the locals very kindly offered to put me up for the night after hearing how I rescued Madura. Unfortunately, whilst staying there I must somehow have contracted the disease that had been troubling people in the village – because next morning, as I was walking back to Gnisis, I started to feel seriously ill.

It began with a mild headache and sore throat, both of which grew steadily worse. An hour or so later, when I stopped to rest and eat, I found myself coughing and feeling unusually chilly. Another hour and the chills had turned to a raging heat, which had me gulping water from my canteen as if I'd just run a mile. I fumbled in my pack for a Cure Disease potion, and realised to my horror that I'd forgotten to buy another one after the Gnisis pilgrimage.

I struggled on for half a mile or so, but it was useless; soon I was feeling so fevered and weak that I simply couldn't go any further. I sank to the ground, coughing heavily and violently cursing my own idiocy. I'm going to die here, I thought. Five years of battling monsters, bandits, necromancers and even Daedra, and I'm going to die of a common disease – just a few miles from the nearest town – because I was too stupid to keep myself properly supplied with potions.

I don't remember much of what I thought after that. I'm not even sure how long I lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness and hawking up various unpleasant bodily fluids. Someone must have been watching over me, though, because no storms blew up, and I wasn't robbed by bandits or attacked by wild animals.

In the early evening I woke to find myself lying in a pool of muddy water, drizzly rain pattering down on my face. I still felt like utter crap, but the fever had broken and I was just about able to stand and walk. After refilling my water canteen at a dirty stream, I tried to eat some food, but only managed to swallow a few mouthfuls before throwing up.

I was just wondering how the hell I was going to get back to Gnisis when I remembered what I'd been too ill to think of earlier in the day: my Almsivi Intervention scrolls. It says a lot about how rotten I was feeling that I didn't even have the energy to be annoyed with myself.

When I re-materialised in the Gnisis temple courtyard, one of my heavy coughing fits attracted the attention of a passer-by, who looked at me in horror. "Please kill me," I croaked.

She shook her head impatiently. "Don't be foolish, outlander. You have a common disease, that's all. Go and find a healer before you infect others."

I staggered into the Temple, where the resident healer took one look at me and immediately backed away. "Oh, dear." He cast a Cure Disease spell from a safe distance, and I instantly felt all the symptoms vanish like – well, _magic_.

"Thank you _so_ much," I said gratefully. "You have no idea what it was like trying to walk back from Ald Velothi in that state."

He frowned. "You _walked_ back from Ald Velothi? Why did you not go to Khuul?"

"Cool?" I mumbled, searching for a piece of rag to wipe my nose on.

"Here, I will show you on your map." He placed a small dot to mark the location of Khuul, a short way up the coast from Ald Velothi. "There is a silt strider there that could have carried you to Gnisis."

I don't think I actually have words to express what I was feeling at that moment. In the event it's probably a good thing I didn't, as it would almost certainly have got me arrested.

By this point I was so utterly filthy that I didn't even want to enter the tradehouse, in case I was mistaken for a tramp and thrown out. Instead, I went straight down to the river and simply stripped off my armour and waded in. The water wasn't particularly clean, but at least it would wash away some of the grime – and the smell.

It wasn't until I heard a voice calling to me that I saw the man standing a short way upstream. He was waist-deep in the water and shivering. "You okay?" I asked, wading towards him.

He shook his head angrily. "Hainab stole my pants!"

"What?"

"I said, he _stole_ my _pants_!" The man scowled. "My name is Hentus Yansurnummu. I was just taking a bath and Hainab Lasamsi came along and stole my pants. I can't come out of the water until I have them back!"

Young men, eh? I sighed. "Well, I guess I could talk to him, but first I need to go to the tradehouse and change, and have a bath. Or possibly three."

"Could you not go to him first, outlander? I am freezing!"

"I am _not_ going to wander around the village looking like this," I told him, hands on hips.

Hentus glared at me, muttering something about 'Imperials' under his breath. I was rapidly losing patience with this guy. "Do you want those pants, or not? Because I'm having a really bad day, and frankly, you can stand here in the river all night for all I care."

I waited for him to mumble an apology and then, after squeezing the water out of my clothes as best I could, left for the tradehouse. I really, really wanted to get myself properly clean, but out of kindness to Hentus I held off taking a bath for the moment. After changing into clean, dry clothes and tidying myself up a bit, I went to one of the open-air stalls just outside the inn and bought some cheap cotton pants that were roughly his size. I wasn't about waste time searching the village for this Hainab person.

Was Hentus grateful? Was he hell. "Those aren't my pants," he said, when I offered them to him. "Hainab Lasamsi has my pants."

"They are now," I told him, trying to keep my patience. "I am donating them to you out of the kindness of my heart."

"I want my _own_ pants back."

I don't think anyone has ever come so close to being strangled with a pair of pants. "Go and _get them yourself_ then!"

"I can't. I am naked below the waist."

"Okay," I said slowly and clearly, as if addressing a very stupid child. "But if you put on these pants which I have brought you, you will no longer be naked below the waist, and you will then be able to go to Hainab and ask him to return your pants. Correct?"

"I can't."

"_Why not_?" I roared.

Hentus lowered his eyes. "I am afraid of him."

Oh, for Mara's sake. I stomped out of the water and back into the village, where one of the traders told me where to find Hainab Lasamsi. I didn't waste any time trying to sweeten him up; I just marched straight up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"You stole my friend Hentus' pants," I said. "I have just been through the most hellish day of my entire life, and I am not a happy mudcrab. Give them back _now_ or I will kill you."

I didn't mean it, of course, but Hainab seemed sufficiently unnerved by the crazy Imperial woman to hand over the pants straight away. I took them back to Hentus, who was, surprisingly, quite grateful. He even gave me some Hackle-Lo as a reward (I was beginning to wonder if this was what they used as the local currency before the Empire came along).

It was getting dark by now, and I was far too tired to think about trying to join the Legion that evening. Instead, following a bath, a hot meal and several glasses of ale, I went straight to bed. I hadn't had any more dreams about mask-wearing, loincloth-sporting madmen the previous night, and I hoped that they were gone for good.

After breakfast the next day I found the local Legion commander, General Darius – he had his offices in the tradehouse, as it happened – and handed him the note from Theldyn Virith. He read it through and gave a pleased grunt. "Sounds like you got what we need here at the Legion, young lady. You ever thought of joining up?"

"I've thought about it," I said hesitantly, "but I don't have the time to be a full-time Legionnaire. I already work for the Fighters' Guild and House Redoran, you see."

Darius rubbed his chin. "Well, maybe we can find you some other work. You up for it? Or do you want to hear what we're all about first?"

I was pretty sure I knew what the Legion was 'all about', having grown up in the heart of the Empire, but I nodded anyway. "Your duties are to the Empire and to your commanding officers - in that order," he told me. "Carry yourself with dignity and uphold the law; you are the face of the Empire to the common man. Respect all members of the Imperial Legion. Do you swear to adhere to what I have stated?"

I took the oath, refraining for once from making any sarcastic comments. I knew that discipline in the Legion was a lot stricter than in any of the Guilds. Seconds later, Darius announced that I was now a Recruit in the Imperial Legion.

"You'll have to stay in uniform, so take this," he said, handing me a chain cuirass with Imperial insignia. "You better be wearing a Legion cuirass of some kind in the presence of a higher ranking member."

My heart immediately sank, not because I minded being in uniform, but because I didn't really like chainmail armour. It was a lot lighter and more mobile than iron or steel, but not nearly as good in terms of protection. Still, it wasn't like I had much choice.

"Ready for orders, Recruit?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, first off, let's see if you truly are loyal to our cause here in Morrowind. There's a little issue of a land deed here in Gnisis I need you to take care of."

"Sir?" This wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting.

"Mansilamat Vabdas is a miner who died recently," Darius continued. "He was survived by his wife, who now owns a parcel of land we could use for another dock. Talk to the Widow Vabdas and get the deed to her land. Don't take 'no' for an answer – get me that land deed!"

Such tact and sensitivity, I thought. No wonder the Empire's provinces welcomed the conquering Legions with open arms, singing hymns of praise and strewing rose petals beneath our feet.

After selling my own steel cuirass to the local smith – I didn't have much use for it now, after all – I set out on my rather unpleasant errand, finding the Widow Vabdas' hut a short distance from the village. As I had rather expected, she was anything but pleased to see me – but what I really _hadn't_ expected was the reason why.

The moment I mentioned the land deed, her ashy skin turned pale with rage. "My husband was murdered by a Legionnaire, and now you come asking for his land? You will never get his land. I will fight you, and all of Gnisis will fight you, until all you foreigners leave us in peace. Now get out of my house!"

"Hey, wait a minute!" Darius hadn't mentioned anything about a murder. "You think a Legionnaire killed your husband?"

She nodded angrily. "My husband went to the eggmine and never came home. He – "

"_Eggmine_?"

"Yes, the eggmine! The one on the hill on the east side of town!" She looked at me as if I were an idiot. "He knew the mine was closed by you foreigners and guarded by the Legions, but we had no fresh kwama eggs. If you want to help me, go the mines and find out the truth!"

I didn't know what to say. I knew perfectly well that not all Legionnaires – or perhaps even most – always lived up to the code of conduct that Darius had recited to me, but I couldn't believe they would kill an innocent miner just for trying to feed his family. Or perhaps I just didn't want to believe it.

"Okay, I'll help you," I said softly, hoping to calm her down a little. "I… can't believe a Legionnaire would murder your husband. There must be some other explanation."

The widow just snorted and turned her back to me. I decided I'd better inform the General of her accusations against the Legion, as he didn't seem to know anything about it. Of course, I had to face a much more unpleasant possibility – that he did know about it, and didn't care.

"Well, Recruit?" barked Darius, when I entered his office in the tradehouse. "Did you speak to the Widow Vabdas?"

"Yes, sir!"

"And do you have the land deed?"

"No, sir!"

"What part of 'Bring me the land deed' did you not understand, soldier?"

I took a deep breath. "She thinks the Legion murdered her husband, sir."

Darius seemed slightly rattled by this. "Murdered? She said that, did she?" He paused. "Well, you'd better go and investigate. Search the mine, and if you find evidence he was murdered, don't come back until you can bring me proof."

"Sir." I was relieved that he seemed to be taking the matter seriously, rather than dismissing it out of hand. That said, I was still confused – not least by the very idea of an eggmine. How could you mine eggs?

The entrance to the mine was half-way up a cliffside, and only reachable by means of a narrow mountain pass. It was guarded by a single very bored-looking Dunmer Legionnaire, who stepped in front of the door as I drew closer. "Halt! The mine is closed, Recruit."

"I'm here to investigate a murder," I said. "General Darius' orders."

"A murder?" He looked skeptical, but finally relented. "Well, since you're in the Legion, I'll let you in. But be careful – the queen is blighted."

Was that some kind of code? "Um… the queen is blighted?"

"The kwama queen, I mean." He smiled at the look of bewilderment on my face. "Never been in an eggmine before, have you?"

"I haven't," I admitted. "I hate to sound ignorant, but… what the heck _is_ an eggmine?"

"The kwama live inside the mines," he explained. "The queen lays eggs, and the miners harvest the eggs and protect the colony from poachers and predators. You'd better be careful when you go in there – the kwama workers won't harm you, but the foragers and warriors may attack you if they don't recognise your scent."

"How do I tell the difference?"

"You'll know when they start trying to kill you," he said with a grin. Oh, very helpful.

I took the key from the guard and cautiously entered the mine. It was well-lit by torches, but only a few miners and guards patrolled the upper level; I noticed that most of the guards were Orcs, like those in the village. As I made my way through the mine, I was attacked by several creatures resembling very large worms, which hurled themselves against my legs and squirted a nasty green substance at me. Luckily my armour protected me, and they were easy enough to kill.

At last I found a door leading to the lower level of the mine, which was closed due to the kwama queen's sickness. The moment I entered, a hefty-looking Orc guard strode towards me with a distinctly threatening gait.

"You're not supposed to be here," he growled. "I'm gonna count to ten. And if you're still here when I'm done, you're gonna be in big trouble."

"Hold on a minute," I said. "I was sent here by General Darius. He's asked me to investigate a mur- "

The guard didn't wait for me to finish; the moment he heard the word 'murder' he lunged at me, brandishing an axe. I dodged his clumsy swing and grabbed my sword, preparing for a fight – but as it turned out, it wasn't him I needed to worry about.

Suddenly I heard a loud growl from further down the cavern, and heavy footsteps pounding towards us. The Orc lowered his axe and swung round, cursing loudly. "Damn kwama warriors! Now look what you've – "

His voice was cut off as two huge beasts bounded out of the passageway behind him, barrelling into him and sending him sprawling to the ground. I shrieked as one of them leapt at me, butting its head into my stomach with such force that I was almost knocked backwards myself. As I lashed at its tough hide with my blade, the horrible thing blasted me with shock magicka, and I felt its huge talons rip through the mail on my chest. The pain was so hideous that I nearly dropped my sword.

For the second time in the past two days, I honestly thought for a few moments that I was going to die. If the second kwama warrior hadn't been too busy mauling the Orc to worry about me, I might not have made it. As it was, a well-placed blow from my sword managed to take off the first warrior's head before it could do any more damage, and I was able to lop off the second one's head from behind before it spotted me. With the mental focus that comes from pure terror, I cast the only healing spell I knew, and sagged with relief as I felt my wounds close up and the pain fade away.

I checked the Orc's mangled body for a pulse, but he was already dead. Looks like I've probably found our murderer, I thought, remembering how he'd reacted when mentioned the word to him. But how was I going to find any proof now?

Down the passageway I could see a huge, bloated insect-like creature surrounded by egg sacs, presumably the kwama queen. It was buzzing angrily, so I decided to leave it well alone. I searched the guardsman's body and the bedroll where he slept, but they were annoyingly devoid of helpful clues such as a note saying "_Yes, I killed the miner. May the Divines have mercy on my soul._" My only chance now was to find Vabdas' body and hope that it had some axe-marks on it.

I made my way through a second door into a dimly-lit passage, close to an underground stream. As I rounded a corner, I found myself standing by a deep pool and – to my horror – a ghost similar to the one I'd seen while robbing that enchanter's tomb, hovering by the waterside. I hastily backed away, conscious that my steel blade couldn't do anything to harm a ghost, but it didn't seem to want to attack me.

"Do not fear me, Imperial," it said in a quavering, echoey voice. "Listen, and I will tell you how I was murdered by Lugrub gro-Ogdum."

"Okay," I said nervously. "Whatever you say."

"I came to the mines to get fresh kwama eggs for my family," he whispered. "Lugrub gro-Ogdum was sleeping, and I snuck past him. When I came back he was awake, and he murdered me so that no one would know he failed his duty. He dropped the broken axe he used next to my body in the water behind me."

I edged my way over to the pool and peered down into the water. It was still and clear, and I could see a body lying at the bottom – presumably Vabdas'. "Take the axe from the water behind me as proof of Lugrub's crimes," the ghost whispered in my ear. "Do not let them take my lands. Avenge my death and let my wife live in peace."

I didn't know if I could trust him, but I wasn't in any mood to argue with a ghost. I removed my armour – noticing that the mail was ripped and my shirt soaked in blood – and dived into the pool, wishing I knew a Water Breathing spell. The head of Lugrub's axe was lying on the bottom by Vabdas' body. It took me a few tries to reach it, but I finally managed to grab hold of it and make my way back to the surface just as I felt my lungs were about to burst.

The ghost had vanished. I left the mine as quickly as possible and made my way back to the tradehouse, hoping the axe-head and Vabdas' dead body would be evidence enough for Darius. "I saw a ghost" probably wasn't going to cut it.

"What the hell happened to you, Recruit?" Darius snapped when he saw my dripping-wet clothes and hair. "Fall into the river?"

"No, sir," I said. "I found out who murdered the widow's husband, sir – it was an Orc named Lugrub gro-Odgum."

"And do you have any proof?"

"Well, I spoke with the ghost of Vabdas – "

"I don't care if you saw the ghost of Tiber Septim!" he exclaimed. "I can't tell the Legion officers in Cyrodiil that I condemned a soldier to death because you talked to a ghost!"

I decided to get straight to the point. "He's already dead, sir. He attacked me as soon as I saw him."

I explained what had happened, and showed Darius the axe-head. "Hmph. Yes, this is Lugrub's axe," he said. "And I can see how it's been damaged from hitting bone here and here. You say he's already dead?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then justice has been served," he said with a sigh. "Let's hope this doesn't do too much damage to the reputation of the Legion."

"Ah, sir," I said hesitantly. "About the land deed…?"

He shook his head. "I won't try and get her land. Not after what happened."

Relieved, I went to my room to change and eat and then went out to Widow Vabdas' hut to tell her the news. When I returned, I found that the story had spread around the village and some of the other Legionnaires were making a fund for the widow. "Would you like to contribute?" one of them asked me.

I gladly handed over 50 septims, feeling for the first time that I truly belonged in the Legion after all. Maybe this would show the people of Gnisis that we weren't all bad. Unfortunately, it was too late for the Widow Vabdas; no amount of money would ever bring her husband back to her.

There's someone who'll never be saluting the Dragon banner, I thought with a sigh. Since coming to Morrowind, I was gradually starting to comprehend what I'd never really understood growing up in Cyrodiil – why the people of the Empire's provinces resented the Legions so much. After all, we were just there to keep the peace and uphold the law. Weren't we?


	13. Chapter 13: Death And Taxes

**Chapter 13: Death And Taxes**

Darius rewarded me for my help by promoting me to Trooper, and gave me a fine steel tower shield from the Legion's armoury. I'd really have preferred a new cuirass, but I certainly wasn't complaining, especially since I could make a decent amount of gold by selling the old shield. He also gave me my next orders: go back to the eggmine and cure the infected queen of Blight disease so that the mine could be reopened.

I did have slightly more skill in Restoration than other forms of magic, so I thought of learning a Cure Blight spell myself, but I couldn't find anyone to teach me one. Instead I bought some spell scrolls from the Redoran village steward, making a mental note to ask about spells next time I was back in Ald'ruhn (apart from anything else, I _really_ didn't want a repeat of yesterday's 'adventure' next time I was out in the wilderness). I went back to the part of the mine where I'd seen the kwama queen, and cast the spell scroll from what I hoped was a safe distance. The angry buzzing subsided a little, so I assumed she'd been cured – no doubt it would be easy for the miners to tell.

Just as I was about to leave the mine, I spotted a narrow passage leading off to the left from the queen's 'chamber'. Wondering what was down there, I followed the passage and came across another small wooden door set into the rock. I opened the door a little way so that I could peer through, and gasped in amazement at what I saw.

The inside of this part of the cave looked exactly like Arkngthand, the Dwemer ruin near Fort Moonmoth: sheet-metal flooring, and the walls lined with pipes and those weird glass-tube lamps. On a rusty iron table near the entrance was a heavy-looking book titled _Divine Metaphysics_, and some plans for what looked like an airship. I carefully opened the book and leafed through the first few pages, but the writing was all in Dwemeris and I couldn't understand a word of it. A book like this had to be incredibly valuable – if you could find the right buyer.

Further into the cave was a bubbling pool of lava set into the metal floor. As I drew closer the heat became almost unbearable, to the point where I had to take off my cuirass before I could go any further. I edged round the side of the pool, trying to get closer to the strange metal object lying beside it.

The thing was one of the strangest Dwemer devices I had ever seen: a sort of statue, vaguely human-shaped but made entirely out of golden metal. It had a trunk, legs, a 'head', and an arm with a huge spiked club welded to the end where its hand ought to be. Lying face-down on the ground with its arms splayed out, it looked for all the world as if it was dead. I felt shivers down my spine just looking at it.

At that moment it occurred to me that I probably wasn't supposed to be there, and that someone could come in and find me at any minute. I hastily left the cavern, informed one of the miners that the queen was cured, and went back to Darius to tell him the good news.

"Good," he said briskly. "Take these 100 drakes as a reward. Now just what the devil have you been doing to your uniform, Trooper?"

Startled, I looked down at my torn cuirass. I'd forgotten how it had got ripped when I was attacked in the mine. "Sorry, sir," I said, embarrassed. "It was the kwama warriors in the eggmine."

"Hmph. Well, you're a good soldier; maybe you should have a better one." He left the room for a couple of minutes and came back with – joy of joys – a Legion steel cuirass. I breathed in deeply as he handed it over to me; ever since I was a child I'd dreamed of wearing one of these. I held it with trembling hands, admiring the fine steelwork and beautiful decorative plating on the front, until the General told me to stop gawping and get back to work.

I was very hungry by now, so I decided to rest and eat before doing any more missions. By the time I left the tradehouse, the villagers had heard about the mine being re-opened, and I found I was a minor local celebrity. Even those who hadn't heard the news seemed to be looking at me with newfound respect, now that I wore a Legion uniform. If I'd realised the benefits of joining the Legion back in Cyrodiil, I'd have joined long ago.

After dinner I went back to Darius to ask if he had any more orders for me. He told me that the Legion's tax collector, Ragash gra-Shuzgub, had vanished during a visit to Arvs Drelen, the Velothi tower on the outskirts of town. "Who lives there?" I asked.

"Baladas Demnevanni, a rogue Telvanni wizard. Came here over twenty years ago and set himself up in Arvs Drelen." He shook his head. "Be careful around old Baladas, Trooper. He's been no trouble so far, but I don't trust him."

I'd got the impression that Gnisis was Redoran territory, so I wondered why they allowed a Telvanni wizard to live there. Perhaps the Council in Ald'ruhn simply couldn't face the hassle of trying to have him turfed out.

I went straight over to the old Velothi tower, a round building constructed in a similar style to the Temple. It certainly looked out of place among the Redoran-style buildings of the village. Inside, the place appeared deserted, but a short way along the first corridor I found a door leading to an underground cell. The iron bars on the door and windows allowed the jailer a full view of the tiny room.

A glum-looking female Orc in a Legion uniform sat on a hammock inside the cell. When she saw me, she waved frantically as if she were afraid I wouldn't notice her there. "Hey! Baladas Demnevanni locked me up in here. Can you get me out?"

I messed around with the lock on the cell door for a minute or two, but soon realised that it was far beyond my lock-picking skills (and even further beyond my Alteration skills). "Wait here for a moment," I told her, "and I'll look for a key."

At the top of a ramp on the other side of the passage was a wooden door. I pressed my ear against it to listen for anyone – or anything – that might be inside, then knocked cautiously. No one answered.

I pushed open the door – it wasn't locked, surprisingly enough – and found myself in what was clearly a bedroom. Lying on a small bedside table, next to a copy of _The Wolf Queen, Book V_, was a key which obviously belonged to some sort of door. Surely it couldn't be that easy?

I took the key and returned to Ragash's cell to try it in the lock, but I couldn't make it fit. "Damn," I announced. "This isn't the right key. Do you know where Baladas is now?"

She jabbed a finger upwards towards the ceiling. "Up there someplace. I just came to collect taxes as I was told, and he lock me up in this room!"

Poor Ragash; it was clear that she wasn't particularly bright, even by Orc standards. I could just imagine her stubbornly demanding the taxes from Baladas, not realising that there are times when it's best just to let these things go. It wouldn't surprise me if some smartarse in the Legion had deliberately chosen her for the task.

I made my way through the winding corridors of Arvs Drelen, ignoring the _interesting_ noises coming from some of the doors I passed (just what the hell was this wizard keeping as pets?), and finally reached another locked door leading to an upper level. I tried the key again, and this time it actually fit – probably a good thing, as I could see that the door was enchanted with some kind of magical trap to deter intruders.

As the door swung open I heard a deep growl, and found myself facing one of the crocodile-headed Daedra known as a Daedroth. I leapt backwards with a gasp, grabbing my sword, but amazingly enough the thing didn't seem interested in attacking me. It just paced around the room, growling and waving its arms around in a vaguely threatening manner.

Very, very carefully, I inched my way across the room – staying as far away from the horrible beast as possible – and up the next flight of stairs to the top level of Arvs Drelen. This was a large workroom of some kind, containing several cupboards, bookshelves and tables covered in clutter. There was no one in sight, but in one corner was a large, gold-plated metal sphere that seemed somehow familiar.

I took a few steps towards the strange object, then let out a small screech of fear as it suddenly rolled over – entirely of its own accord – and began to unfold itself. Within seconds it had taken on the shape of that weird metal 'man' I had seen in the eggmine, only this one was… _alive_. I stared at it, paralysed with horror, as it rolled back and forth across the ground with a faint whirring sound. What the bloody _hell_?

Clockwork, I told myself, trying to stay calm and ignore my frantically-thumping heart. Clockwork and… magic of some kind. Had to be. At least it didn't seem to be trying to kill me, though it was a full minute before I dared move again for fear of 'upsetting' the strange mechanical creature.

Once I'd managed to convince myself that the thing was harmless, I relaxed a little and began to examine the room more closely. It was littered with the tools of the wizard's trade – full and empty bottles, alembics, bizarre alchemical ingredients, and books. Lots and lots of books.

I took a closer look at one which was lying open on the shelf: _The Dragon Break Re-Examined_. "_The late 3rd era was a period of remarkable religious ferment and creativity,_" it began. "_The upheavals of the reign of Uriel VII were only the outward signs of the historical forces that would eventually lead to the fall of the Septim Dynasty..._"

Hang on, 'late 3rd Era'? 'Fall of the Septim Dynasty'? Unless I had been spectacularly misinformed, this _was_ the Third Era, and Uriel Septim VII was still very much in power. As I read on, I suddenly realised what the author was doing: the book was written from the perspective of some imaginary future historian, looking back on the Third Era. How very… curious.

"Ahem," said a gruff voice behind me.

I whirled round and found myself face-to-face with a genuine Telvanni mage for the first time. By appearances he was an ordinary, rather grumpy-looking middle-aged Dunmer, but at the same time there was something ageless about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Remembering what Caius had said about 'thousand-year-old wizards', it made me wonder just how old – and powerful – he really was.

"Ah. Excuse me," I said, slightly embarrassed to have been caught examining his private stuff. "Baladas, er… Demnevanni?"

"Speaking," he said coldly. "Hurry up."

I decided not to bother with introductions. "I was sent here by General Darius, _sera_. You, er, seem to have taken one of our soldiers prisoner."

Baladas frowned. "She came demanding tribute for the Empire of men. I was here before Gnisis, before the Empire of men; I will be here after Gnisis is gone and after this short-lived Empire has crumbled. The people of Gnisis live only because I tolerate them. Why should I pay tribute?"

Something told me that appealing to this guy's sense of civic duty probably wasn't going to work. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding," I said soothingly. "Anyway, surely she'll have learned her lesson by now?"

"What? So soon?" he said with a snort. "Even the short-lived Orcs need time to reflect on their transgressions."

Oh dear, this wasn't going too well. "Please, Ser Baladas," I said, trying to sound respectful rather than desperate. "Let her go and no one will trouble you again."

He scowled. "You trouble me now. Do you think I have nothing better to do than listen to such lies? Leave now, or you shall join the Orc in my prison."

"Okay, okay," I said, raising my hands. "But before I go, please could I just ask you something? Are you interested in the Dwemer, by any chance?"

As I had expected, he looked a little taken aback by the question. "Yes, I have studied the Dwemer for many centuries. What is your reason for asking me this?"

"I was just wondering if you'd heard of a book called _Divine Metaphysics_?"

The sour-faced wizard caught his breath, and I immediately saw that I'd struck gold. "You have a copy?" he asked almost hoarsely.

"I don't, but I know where you can get one," I said. "But you'll have to let Ragash go first."

Baladas hesitated only a second before handing me a key from the pocket of his robe. "Very well, here is the key. Now tell me where to find the book – and if I find you have lied, be sure that I _will_ kill you."

"Okay. You know the eggmine up on the hill?" He nodded. "Inside there, some of the workers have uncovered a Dwemer ruin. I saw a copy of the book and some kind of airship plans. You'd better get there quickly before someone comes and takes them away."

He still looked suspicious, but finally nodded. "Very well. Now leave, and take the Orc with you."

I hurried back downstairs before he could change his mind. A crazed wizard who lived alone with tame Daedroths and strange Dwemer machines was not someone you wanted to mess with.

Poor Ragash nearly cried when I came to free her from her cell. "Thank you so much," she said when we were finally outside the building. "You help me escape from that crazy guy. I thought I'd never get out again."

"You okay? He didn't set his pet Daedroth on you or anything like that?"

She shook her head. "Go tell Darius that I'm okay."

Darius was happy to hear that I'd got Ragash out safely, and rewarded me with a promotion to Agent and a Legion helmet and gauntlets. If I went on like this, pretty soon I'd have the whole set. "Are you ready for further orders?" he asked me.

Well, why not? "Yes, sir!" I said, throwing caution to the winds.

"Well, I suspect there is something going on with some of my troopers. Informants have told me of a conspiracy brewing involving the Talos Cult."

"Talos Cult, sir?" I was confused. It's more common to worship the Nine as a group, of course, but there are cults devoted to individual Gods and Goddesses all over the Empire. "Are they dangerous?"

He shook his head. "They are a group that reveres Tiber Septim. It's not the group as a whole that concerns me, but rumours of a conspiracy within the membership. Talk to your fellow soldiers and see if you can find out more."

I obediently set off for the barracks, though I couldn't imagine what kind of conspiracy a bunch of Talos-worshippers could be involved in. The few I'd met before had been almost fanatically devoted to the Empire, as you'd expect from people who worship a former Emperor. Unless they'd gone crazy and decided we need to exterminate all Dunmer or Argonians or something… actually, yeah, I could kind of see Talos-worshippers doing that.

I didn't have much experience with infiltrating religious cults, but I guessed it wasn't a good idea to just barge in and start asking leading questions. Instead I joined the other Legionnaires as they ate their evening meal, sloshed around a good deal of ale, and ended up recounting my daring rescue of Ragash gra-Shuzgub from the fiendish wizard Baladas. (I'll admit that my account may not have been 100% factually accurate.)

"…so I said to him, 'Listen, you Telvanni bastard. Let her go _right now_ or I'll shove this longsword up where the sun don't shine!'" There was a general roar of laughter and approval, and one of the soldiers handed me another drink. I just hoped I could get out of Gnisis before this version of the story got back to Baladas.

"So," I said casually to the guy sitting next to me, once the conversation had moved on. "You guys worship Talos, right? I heard something about a cult."

The soldier, an Orc, looked a bit uncomfortable. "Look, I'm not really into it, OK?"

"No?" I said, acting disappointed. "You can't tell me how to join, then?"

He sighed. "Talk to Oritius Maro. That's all I'm saying."

The next morning I tracked down Oritius Maro, one of the few other Imperials in the Gnisis branch of the Legion, and asked about the cult. Immediately his face lit up. "Yes, we are those who worship the true following of the Legions. Protecting the Glory of Tiber Septim, Talos, the Dragonborn."

"I've always admired Tiber Septim," I told him. "Truly the greatest Emperor of all time." (Actually I've always preferred Alessia, but he didn't need to know that.)

Maro looked pleased. "I heard about you and the wizard, sister. Perhaps you could be of some use to us. Do you have interest in becoming a member of the Talos Cult?"

I nodded, and he handed me a key. "This will unlock the door to the shrine downstairs. Look in the storeroom for the door. While you're there, speak with Arius Rulician, and he'll tell you more."

Well, that was surprisingly easy. I went to the storeroom and found the door he was talking about – actually a trapdoor down into a small basement area. There was nothing much there apart from a shrine to Talos, guarded by a single Imperial soldier who was presumably Arius Rulician.

"Ah, so you've spoken to Oritius?" he said when I introduced myself. "We are always interested in meeting those who sympathise with our cause. Feel free to look around and hear of our plans."

He left the room before I had a chance to ask what those 'plans' might be – I got the impression that he thought I already knew. Anyway, I didn't know what he was doing or how long he'd be gone for, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

The only things I could see on the shrine were a sword, a collection plate, and a small wooden strongbox with a heavy lock. A quick examination of the lock showed that it was actually a fairly simple one, and it took only seconds for me to spring it with one of my picks. The only thing inside was a brief note written by Oritius Maro:

_There are rumours that Uriel will be visiting Vvardenfell in person. If so, we must act sooner than anticipated. We must watch his actions carefully and strike if the opportunity presents itself. We must also recruit more and swear them to the oath: That we shall die to put a strong man back on the throne of Tamriel._

_Burn this note._

_Oritius_

I blinked a few times, overcome with a sudden sense of being stuck in a bad novel. If I'd read that correctly, Oritius was talking about _assassinating_ Uriel VII and replacing him with a 'stronger' Emperor. Surely this kind of thing didn't actually happen, in this day and age?

I read the letter through once more to be sure I hadn't misread it, but there was no mistaking the phrase 'put a strong man back on the throne of Tamriel'. They were planning to _kill_ the Emperor. I felt my hands shake slightly as I realised what I'd got myself mixed up in. Okay, so they'd probably overestimated the chances of Uriel making a state visit to Darkest Vvardenfell, but still – this was _treason_.

Unfortunately, Arius chose that moment to come back and see me holding the note. If I'd thought more quickly I might have been able to save the situation – "Right on, brother, death to the Emperor!" – but I was just too shocked. He spotted the open box, saw the expression on my face, and immediately drew his sword.

The fight that followed was short and brutal. There wasn't much space to move around, or even swing a sword properly, so all we could do was hack at each other while desperately trying to defend with our shields. Arius was fighting for his life – he knew what was likely to happen if anyone else found out about this – so there wasn't much chance of him surrendering. It was pure luck that I managed to get in the first blow, and that it managed to penetrate the chainmail armour he was wearing.

To make matters worse, Oritius Maro was the first person to greet me as I hauled myself out of the trapdoor. He saw the blood on my sword and cuirass, and let out a roar of fury as he realised what had happened. Another brief and violent struggle followed, and again it was mostly my superior armour that saved the day – boy was I glad Darius had given me that steel cuirass.

By this time several other Legionnaires had come running to see what was going on. There were gasps of horror at the sight of Maro's body, and I realised I had to get out of here _now_. "Murder! Treason! Conspiracy!" I shrieked, and then bolted for the door before anyone could react, leaving them staring after me in bemusement. I was already at the door of the tradehouse by the time I heard sounds of pursuit.

Back in Darius' office, I showed him the now rather bloodstained note and did my best to give him a coherent account of what had happened. "A conspiracy against the Emperor?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "Thank the Divines you found this evidence. And that you managed to bring justice to the traitors." He shook his head. "It saddens me that this could happen to men under my command."

"Did you have any idea this was going on, sir?"

Again he shook his head. "We all swore to serve the Emperor, no matter what happens. Well, you've earned my gratitude, Agent. For this I believe you deserve promotion to the rank of Champion."

I was astonished, hardly knowing whether to feel gratified or uncomfortable. Champion was quite a high rank, certainly not one you'd expect to reach after only two days in the Legion. I could only hope my fellow soldiers wouldn't resent me for being promoted over their heads like that.

Darius gave me two fine Imperial steel pauldrons to complete the set, and after cleaning and polishing my armour, I finally stood resplendent in my full Legion uniform. I held out my shield in front of me to admire my reflection, and felt a stab of pride. Who would have thought that less than a month ago I'd been languishing in a prison cell? I couldn't wait to see the look on Caius Cosades' face when he heard about this.

Since Darius didn't have any more tasks for a Legion Champion, I decided to leave Gnisis the following morning, and set out to visit the Shrine of Valour in the Koal Cave. It wasn't far from the village, but it took me quite a long time to find the entrance, tucked away between some rocks by the waterside. The book told me that "only experienced and capable adventurers should attempt to re-enact the epic battle with the dreugh in the cave", so I decided to give that a miss. If I ever felt an uncontrollable urge to fight a dreugh, I could always come back later on.

I took the next morning's silt strider back to Ald'ruhn, arriving late in the evening. The streets were still filled with people, and once again I noticed the difference in their attitude now that I wore a Legion uniform. It was particularly obvious with the Redoran guards I passed – where once they'd just have ignored me, or looked at me with mild suspicion, they now nodded to me with grudging respect as I walked by. Why the heck did I wait so long to join the Legion?

Neminda raised her eyebrows when I entered the Council hall in my new get-up. "Well, don't you look smart," she said approvingly. "You must have been busy since I last saw you."

"I'll say," I said. "Let's see, I… fought off a bandit attack, rescued a pilgrim from some Ashlanders, solved a murder case, helped a guy who'd had his pants stolen – "

"His _pants_?"

"Yes. It's a long story," I told her. "Anyway, where was I? Ah yes… freed a kidnapped tax collector, nearly died of a fever, and cured the Gnisis eggmine's queen of blight disease. Oh, and foiled a plot to kill the Emperor."

Neminda's mouth was hanging open. "You're not serious."

"I am too," I said.

"A plot. To kill. The Emperor?" she repeated, with obvious skepticism.

"That's right. Why do you think I'm Champion of Fort Darius now?" I showed her the band on my arm indicating my rank.

Neminda stared at it for several seconds, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, then finally pulled herself together. "Well, then, I guess it's probably time to talk about your advancement in House Redoran."

We went off to one of the practice rooms, where I demonstrated my combat skills to Neminda by sparring with her for a while. She was good, but I managed to hold my own pretty well. "Not bad," she said at last. "You're as good as me – maybe better. Perform a few more tasks for the House and you should rise through the ranks pretty quickly."

She promoted me to Oathman of House Redoran, and reminded me that I'd need a sponsor once I reached the next rank. In the meantime, she gave me a book called _The Red Book of 3E 426_, containing the names and residences of all the Redoran councillors.

I opened the book and read the first name on the page: "_Archmaster Lord Bolvyn Venim, by Grace of Almsivi, Chief Councilor of Redoran Council, Vvardenfell District, Lord Ald'ruhn of Venim Manor, Manor District, Ald'ruhn, District of Vvardenfell, Province of Morrowind_." Bloody hell, that was a lot of titles. I hoped I wouldn't have to run through them all every time I spoke to him.

It was still fairly early in the evening, so I decided to try out one of the local taverns. I'd already drunk several times at a place called the Ald Skar Inn, which was nice enough, but thought I'd try somewhere different for a change. After returning to the Fighters' Guild to change out of my uniform, I set out to look for a tavern, and finally ended up in a place called The Rat In The Pot.

The moment I entered the tavern, I could tell that it wasn't exactly the most upmarket place in the city. In fact, judging by the surprisingly high number of non-Dunmer in the place, I suspected it was probably the local Thieves' Guild hangout. Still, the owner – a Breton named Lirielle Stoine – was friendly enough, and eager to pass on the latest Ald'ruhn gossip.

"Did you hear Bolvyn Venim killed another outlander in a duel?" she asked me. "Terrible, isn't it?"

Hang on, I'd just seen that name in the _Red Book_. "Bolvyn Venim? The Redoran Archmaster?"

"That's right," said Narile Sadoro, one of the other patrons. "The man was an officer in the House Guard, but Venim insulted his ancestors at a meal, so of course he had to demand satisfaction."

"He… did?"

Lirielle nodded sadly. "And of course he had no chance against Venim. So it was murder, really."

"You're an outlander, yes?" Narile asked me. "Then take warning – be very careful in your dealings with Venim. Or better yet, stay away from him."

Oh, wonderful. I leave one House because their leader is a lecherous pervert, only to find that the head of my _new_ House is a rabid xenophobe. Well, if he thought that little trick was going to work on me, he was going to be disappointed. I didn't even know who my ancestors were, so he could insult them all he liked as far as I was concerned.

"Talking of Venim," Lirielle said confidentially, "I heard that he's been having an aff-"

She broke off suddenly, and I followed her gaze to the young Dunmer man who had just entered the tavern. By the look of him he was a few years younger than me, probably no more than twenty. He was simply dressed, and wore his hair in that weird spiked row that seemed to be the fashion among Dunmer youth, but I could spot a rich kid posing as a commoner at fifty paces. Probably a son of one of the Redoran nobles under Skar – that would explain why Lirielle had shut up so quickly.

But what really struck me about the man was how deeply, deeply unhappy he looked. I don't think he even noticed me sitting there; he just went straight up to Lirielle and said something in a low voice. She handed him a tankard, and he gulped down the entire thing within seconds, then ordered another and sat down with his back to everyone else in the room.

I sipped my own drink and stared at the miserable figure hunched over the table, wondering what was up with the poor guy. A short while later, a couple of Redoran guards came in and took a seat at a nearby table. I struck up another conversation with Lirielle, and one of the guards came over to order a drink, so neither of us really noticed when the Dunmer man left the room for a few minutes. On his return he sat down, took a few sips of his drink, and then suddenly slumped forward across the table.

"My goodness," said Lirielle. "He hasn't had that much to drink." Her face paled slightly. "I hope he hasn't – "

I hurried to the young man's side and checked his pulse, which was strong, then tried to wake him by gently shaking his shoulder. He murmured something, but didn't wake up. "I think he's just asleep," I announced. "Probably had a few drinks before coming in here – "

One of the guards practically shoved me aside. "Do not concern yourself with this, outlander. We will take him home." Well, _sheesh_, I thought. I was just trying to help.

The rest of us watched as the guards lifted the man from his seat and half-dragged, half-carried him out of the tavern. Once they were gone, Lirielle nudged me. "That's young Varvur, Lord Sarethi's son," she told me. "People are saying he murdered Bralen Carvaren, but I don't believe it. They were the best of friends."

Goodness. No wonder he'd looked a bit upset.

Narile nodded. "They used to come in here often to drink and meet women, as young men do. We pretended not to know who they were, of course, but it was an open secret." She shook her head. "But Varvur Sarethi is a nice boy. It's all very sad."

I wondered if the young man I'd just seen really was a murderer. He didn't look like one, but… well, according to the law, _I_ was a murderer. Combine a short temper with a weapon and an excess of alcohol, and it's all too easy to make a life-destroying mistake.


	14. Chapter 14: Never Say Nerevar

**Chapter 14: Never Say Nerevar**

When I finally emerged from the Fighters' Guild the next morning, I was surprised to find that it was almost noon. Up till now it hadn't really hit me how utterly exhausted I was after the last few days' events. I decided to spend the day resting and relaxing in Ald'ruhn, jewel of the Ashlands.

I wandered around the city for most of the afternoon. I didn't hate Ald'ruhn quite as much as I had when I'd first arrived – at least in good weather – but everything about it reminded me of the things I missed from home. Grass, trees, flowers… anything _green_.

In fact, there were dozens of little things I was starting to miss about Cyrodiil by this time – food being a major one. Morrowind food wasn't _bad_ exactly, but it was a bit too exotic for my tastes. I found myself longing for good old Cyrodiil fare – not just expensive luxuries such as venison, but ordinary, everyday stuff like apples and potatoes. Kwama eggs and ash yams just weren't the same.

By late evening I was feeling so depressed that I realised I needed something to distract myself. I went to Neminda to ask if she had any more Redoran duties for me. "Indeed I do," she said, sighing. "The Andrano ancestral tomb has been robbed."

_Andrano ancestral tomb_? My mouth suddenly felt very dry. "That's… terrible," I croaked, visions of Llevule Andrano's skull floating before my eyes. "Who would do a thing like that?"

"As a matter of fact, we know who did it."

I gulped. "We… do?"

"Yes. A Hlaalu guard named Alvis Teri stole a Founder's Helm from the tomb."

Huh? I hadn't seen anything like when I took the skull for Sharn. Either this Alvis Teri had come along before me, or she was talking about a different Andrano tomb. Relief washed over me.

"Would you be willing to recover this Founder's Helm from the godless Hlaalu?" Neminda continued.

"Sure," I said hastily. "Er… how do I know a Founder's Helm when I see one?"

"It looks like a normal closed bonemold helm," she told me. "He is boasting of the theft at the Eight Plates inn and wears the helm openly. Confront him and demand it back – but do _not_ shame House Redoran by murdering him."

I hadn't been thinking of _killing_ the guy, for crying out loud. Why did people keep assuming that I'd be ready to commit murder at the drop of a hat? Did I really look like a 'stab first, ask questions later?' kind of person?

The next day I arrived back in Balmora via the Mages Guild and my new friend Masalinie Merian. "Ada!" she exclaimed. "How very nice to see you again." For a brief moment I was quite touched, until she went on, "You don't seem to have visited your 'friend' Caius in a while. Trouble in paradise?"

I gave her a look which ought to have frozen her to the spot, but only made her snort with suppressed laughter. I marched out of the building in haughty silence, trying to salvage at least some of my dignity. Clearly this rumour wasn't going to die down easily, no matter how long I spent away from Balmora, but what could I do? I could hardly tell people the truth – and even if I did, they weren't exactly going to believe me.

"No, I'm totally not sleeping with Caius. You see, I'm actually a top agent for the Imperial secret service and he's the Grand Spymaster."

"Yeah, right. Hahaha."

Alvis Teri was easy enough to find at the Eight Plates. He was wearing a full set of Hlaalu guard armour, and as Neminda said, he was wearing the Founder's Helm openly. I thought it made him look like a bit of a pillock, to be honest.

As I approached, he looked at me with narrowed eyes from beneath his visor. "If Alvena Llerams' father sent you, tell him it's not mine. I never touched her."

"I'm not here on behalf of the Legion," I said, keeping my voice low as I sat down beside him. "Or Alvena's father, for that matter. I'm a member of House Redoran."

"Oh, great," he said, scowling. "Just what I need. Another stupid Redoran."

I ignored the insult. "I think you have something that belongs to us."

"This helm, you mean?" I could only see his eyes, but I could tell he was grinning. "I stole it fair and square."

"I really don't think it works like that." I leaned towards him slightly. "Come on, Alvis, let's be sensible about this. I'm sure neither of us wants things to turn nasty."

"Twist my arm, will you?"

I grabbed his right arm and gave it a sharp twist. Alvis let out a yelp. "You _s'wit_!"

Ah, now _that_ word I recognised. My old Fighter's Guild boss Modryn Oreyn used to use it whenever he was in a bad mood (which was most of the time). "Just a small warning," I told him, with a mirthless smile. "Come on now, just hand it over. Or would you like me to have a word with my friend Larrius Varro at Fort Moonmoth?"

I could see him hesitating, trying to work out whether or not I was bluffing. Finally, with great reluctance, he pulled off the helm and handed it to me. "Fine," he muttered. "Take the stupid helm. Just like the Redorans to send a girl to do a man's job."

I couldn't help it, I fell about laughing. "Don't worry, Alvis," I chortled, as he continued to glare at me. "You stay away from our tombs in future, and I won't tell anyone you got beaten up by a _giiiiiirl_. Okay?"

He seemed more interested in grinding his teeth than saying anything else, so I left the inn to consider my next move. Unfortunately, while it was the last thing I wanted to do right now, I felt I really should go and see Caius. He'd probably have another mission for me by now – and to tell the truth, I was rather looking forward to crowing over my Legion exploits.

However, it seemed that Caius had already heard the news. The first thing he said once I was safely inside was, "Well, my friend. I hear you managed to foil a plot against the Emperor's life."

"That's right," I said. "I hope his Majesty is grateful."

"I'm sure he will be."

"Tell him I don't want a big reward or anything," I said. "Just a _small_ castle perhaps, maybe a title of some kind… oh, I take it he won't object to me going back to Cyrodiil now?"

Once again, Caius avoided the question. "We need an Ashlander informant," he said briskly. "To tell us about the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine cult."

"Ah. Hang on a minute." I fumbled for my journal. "This Ashlander guy in I met in Pelagiad mentioned a tribe up in the north. Something like Ur… Urkil…"

"Urshilaku?"

"Oh," I said, slightly deflated. "You already know?"

He nodded. "I've heard of them, but first I want you to find out more about Ashlander customs. I've heard of a fellow in Ald'ruhn named Hassour Zainsubani, an Ashlander who left the Wastes to become a wealthy trader."

I wrote down the name in my journal, struggling to work out how to spell it ('Zaynsubahni'? 'Zeensubanni'?) Well, at least I wouldn't have to trek out into the sticks to find the guy.

"They say the Ashlanders like to give and receive presents," Caius continued. "Take these 100 drakes, find out what Zainsubani likes, and get him a gift. Then see what he has to tell you about Ashlanders and the cult."

"Okay. Er, Caius," I said. "I take it all this _is_ actually going to lead somewhere, eventually? Sometime soon maybe?"

"All will be revealed in time," he said, with his usual infuriating smile. I just sighed.

I could have gone straight back to Ald'ruhn after leaving Caius, but first I wanted to get my Temple pilgrimage finished once and for all. The only site left was Ghostgate, near the crater of Red Mountain. I was told that the best way to reach it was to head up the Foyada Mamaea ('foyada' being the Ashlander word for 'fire-river', or lava channel). Much to my relief, when I reached the foyada east of Balmora, I found that it had dried out long ago (do you have any idea how bloody _hot_ and heavy a full Imperial uniform is?)

Unfortunately I soon found myself facing a far worse threat than lava: cliff racers. As I made my way up the ashy chasm, listening to the whistle of the wind, they began to circle silently. I didn't even realise they were there until I heard that dreadful shriek and looked up to see _two_ of the damn things, only a few feet above my head and bearing down fast.

I ran. There was nowhere to take cover in the narrow, deserted mountain pass: no caves, no trees… Eventually I realised that I couldn't outrun them, and that if I kept going I would only run into even more of the things. I ducked behind a tall rock, raised my shield above my head, and resorted to my tried-and-tested 'wave sword around wildly and hope it connects' technique.

I finally emerged alive, but badly scratched and bleeding. From now on I realised I would have to be a lot more careful about watching out for cliff racers. They had a bird's-eye view (literally) and I had nowhere to hide.

From then on I crept forward a lot more slowly and cautiously, constantly looking around me and listening for the cliff racers' shrieks. When I spotted one in the distance, I would wait until it noticed me and then fire off an arrow as it swept in to attack. I didn't hit every time, but I did manage to keep most of them from getting close enough to do any real damage.

About half-way up the foyada, I spotted what looked like a building looming out of the fog in the distance. My heart leapt with relief, only to plunge again as I suddenly realised what kind of structure it was. The twisted, misshapen architecture of carved obsidian could only signify one thing: a Daedric shrine. No one had mentioned anything about this!

I swore under my breath and paused to think what to do next. Daedra were immune to normal weapons, and while I did still have my enchanted shortsword from Sharn gra-Muzgob, I'd no idea if it would be enough to hold them off. I'd just have to stay as far away from the shrine as possible and hope none of them spotted me.

I inched my way along the opposite side of the pass, pressed up against the cliff face, now keeping a desperate watch for Daedra as well as cliff racers. I could probably handle the odd scamp or clannfear, but if I ran across an Atronach I was finished. First thing to on my to-do list once I got back to Ald'ruhn: find a better sword.

At long, long last I was far enough away from the shrine to consider myself safe. I sank to the ground to rest, sighing with relief – and that was when the Blight storm hit.

Once again, I couldn't shake the feeling that one of the Gods must have been watching over me that day. (Probably wetting themselves laughing, but still.) If I hadn't happened to be carrying the Founder's Helm, I'd probably have choked to death in that storm. As it was, the helm offered good protection against the wind and ash but made it far harder to see where I was going – and, more importantly, to see the cliff racers and other wild creatures bent on attacking me.

I struggled on through the raging storm as it began to get dark, exhausted, but not daring to stop and rest in case I was attacked. I couldn't even see more than a few feet in front of my face – all I could do was pray that I was going the right way. By the time I finally arrived at Ghostgate – now well into the night – I was drenched in sweat, caked with dirt, aching all over and very close to tears.

Even so, my first sight of the 'Ghostfence' – the massive cage-like structure that surrounded Red Mountain, in order to keep blighted monsters from getting out – was almost enough to make me forget my aches and pains. It was a truly incredible sight: a massive, shimmering wall, fifty feet high and stretching as far as the eye could see. I wondered how long it had been there, and what kind of enchantment was used to maintain it.

I wasn't in any state to continue my pilgrimage that night, so I stumbled into the northernmost tower where the Redorans had a hostel and collapsed into bed. The next morning, as I ate breakfast, the publican – who seemed to act as a kind of tour guide for pilgrims – told me a little about Ghostgate and the Ghostfence.

"Since the Armistice, most Dunmer clans bind their ancestors' bones into the Ghostfence," she told me. "The fence is sustained by the power of the Tribunal, but their spirits help to strengthen it."

"You mean… it's made of ghosts? Actual ghosts?" Now that was just creepy. Up until then I'd assumed the name was metaphorical.

I asked her whether it was true that Dagoth Ur lived inside the Ghostfence, and she nodded. "He dwells in fiery caverns beneath Red Mountain, served by his kin – called 'ash vampires' – and legions of deformed monsters. For centuries Ordinators and Buoyant Armigers led by the Tribunal would pass through the gate on raids, but these were suspended because of heavy losses to the Temple forces."

"Buoyant Armigers?" I tried not to giggle as I imagined a bunch of soldiers, inflated like balloons, bobbing up and down on the surface of a lake.

"They are a small military order of the Temple, dedicated to serving Lord Vivec." She lowered her voice, smiling a little. "In more ways than one, so I am told."

Was she serious? Good grief. Every day I seemed to be learning something new and fascinating about the gods of the Dunmer. At the very least, I had to admit that they sounded a lot more interesting than ours.

The Shrine of Pride was just inside the Ghostfence, where heavy blight storms raged all day long. To get through the Ghostgate I had to pass two heavy iron gates which were controlled by levers. I don't know why Dagoth Ur's monsters couldn't operate them; either they just weren't intelligent enough, or the levers were protected by some kind of enchantment.

I was nervous about running into some of these monsters while walking to the shrine, but as it turned out, the only threat I faced was cliff racers. After dealing with them I donated a soulgem to the shrine, and was delighted when it cast a fairly powerful Shield spell on me – though admittedly this would have been a lot more helpful on the way _to_ Ghostgate.

There was no way in hell I was going to travel back down the foyada to Balmora, so I went to the Ghostgate temple and asked if anyone could teach me an Almsivi Intervention spell. It was quite expensive, but ultimately I hoped it would save me money on scrolls. Once I was reasonably sure I knew the spell, I had a go at casting it, and after a few failed attempts I finally ended up in the Ald'ruhn Temple courtyard.

Inside the temple I spoke to a priest, Tuls Valen, to explain that I'd finished the pilgrimages. I had no way of proving this, but Valen didn't seem to care – it seemed that if I'd had the nerve I could have just waited a few weeks, then told a Temple priest that I was done, and they'd be none the wiser. Sigh.

After taking the Founder's Helm back to Neminda, my next task was to find Hassour Zainsubani and convince him to tell me all about Ashlanders. Before that, though, I needed a new sword – one that could handle Daedra. I went to the enchanter's store under Skar, and bartered my old sword and a few other items for a longsword with a Frost damage enchantment. After that I went to the Ald Skar Inn, which was where I'd been told Hassour could be found.

Zainsubani wasn't in the inn when I first arrived, but the innkeeper assured me that he was staying there. "He has his own room here," she told me. "He was born an Ashlander, and knows their speech and custom, and has grown rich by trading with them for the things prized by Westerners. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"I was wandering what sort of thing he might like as a gift?"

"A gift?" She thought for a moment. "Well, he seems very fond of books."

Books, eh? I left the inn and walked over to the Ald'ruhn bookseller, where I faced the daunting task of choosing a gift for someone I'd never even met. _ABCs for Barbarians_ was probably not the best choice, ditto _A Less Rude Song_ and _Homilies of Blessed Almalexia_, but what _would_ suit an Ashlander who'd left his tribe to become a wealthy trader?

In despair, I finally went to the bookseller himself – an Imperial named Codus Callonus – and asked whether he knew Hassour. "The Ashlander trader?" He nodded. "A bibliophile. Likes poetry. I have a few such volumes here, I believe – _Words of the Wind_, _Ashland Hymns_, _The Five Far Stars_."

After some dithering I picked _The Five Far Stars_ and returned to the Ald Skar inn. Zainsubani was back too, and was drinking in the backroom below the bar. I approached him nervously, clutching the book in my hands.

"I am Hassour Zainsubani, Ada," he said, when I introduced myself. "May you bless and be blessed. I do not wish to be rude, but if you have business, speak it, for I am at leisure, and would prefer to be alone with my thoughts."

"Ah." This wasn't the best start. "Actually, I was hoping you might have time to speak to me. I've… brought you a gift."

I held out the book, and Hassour's face lit up. "This is a gift for me? A copy of _The Five Far Stars_. Noble words of noble warriors." He hesitated. "Please take no offence, but I already own a copy of this book."

"Oh." I cringed. It's always the way, isn't it? You spend ages trying to pick the perfect gift for someone, only to discover they already have it.

"No, no!" he exclaimed, seeing my embarrassment. "You could not know this, and it in no way diminishes the pleasure of your gift. Now, what would you wish me to tell you?"

I explained that I wanted to know more about Ashlanders, and about the Nerevarine cult. Hassour threw up his hands. "There is too much to tell! But I will write you some notes. And if you are visiting a camp, there are things you should know about courtesy and challenges among the Ashlanders, and their views on foreigners."

"Tell me what they think of foreigners," I said, wanting to know the worst.

"Most Ashlanders wish all foreigners and their false gods could be driven from Morrowind," he said bluntly. "Or at the very least, they wish the 'foreign devils' would leave them in peace. They think it shameful to attack unarmed persons, but they will kill without hesitation an armed person who offends them or their clan laws." He paused. "I do not wish to alarm you, but Imperials and the Empire are particularly disliked. If you plan to visit a camp, it may be best to remove your Legion cuirass."

Oh, great. "Okay, what about courtesy and challenges?"

"Ashlanders may challenge a stranger who enters a yurt without invitation," he said. "Customs differ with different tribes, but leave when requested, and you may be forgiven. Be particularly careful about ashkhans – tribal chiefs – and wise women, the tribal seers and counsellors. Be courteous, and leave if requested – if offended, they may attack."

This was just getting better and better, I thought. Especially since knowing me, I was bound to do something to offend someone (such as 'being Imperial', by the sound of it) without even meaning to. "What about the Nerevarine cult?" I asked, changing the subject. "Do all Ashlanders follow it, or is it just the Urshilaku?"

Hassour nodded. "The cult is of small consequence in Ashlander worship, and only among the Urshilaku do its followers have any influence. It is a very small cult, with only a few wise women with the gift of prophecy, and a few holy warrior-heroes who guard and protect the seers. Sul-Matuul, Ashkhan of the Urshilaku, is the Warrior-Protector of the cult, and their wise woman Nibani Maesa is the Oracle-Seer of the cult."

So the Nerevarine cultists were a minority even among the Ashlanders? The more I learned about this cult, the less I understood why Caius seemed to care about it so much. I waited patiently for Hassour to finish writing his notes, then thanked him and went to the Fighter's Guild to have dinner.

To my extreme annoyance, that night I had yet another of those disturbing dreams. Golden Mask Guy was back, and this time I could actually hear and understand what he was saying. "_Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia!_" he cried. "_Long forgotten, forged anew! Three belied you, three betrayed you! One you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain! Beneath Red Mountain, once again, break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind!_"

I'd had just about enough of this. "Listen, pal," I snarled. "I'm _not_ Lord Nerevar Indoril. In case you haven't noticed, I'm an Imperial and a GIRL. And I'm quite happy with my skin, thank you very much, even if I do spend a fortune on potions to cure sunburn!" I was getting really angry now. "So will you kindly _piss off_ and stop haunting my dreams?"

I woke up straight after that, so I didn't get to see how Dagoth Ur – if that was who he was – reacted. Frankly, I wasn't at all happy about him forcing his way into my dreams like this, let alone addressing me as a 'friend'. If this was an attempt to recruit me to his nasty little ethnic-cleansing campaign, it wasn't working. Didn't he realise I _was_ one of the '_n'wah_' he wanted to kick out of Morrowind?

I spent the morning training in the Redoran practice rooms, trying to work off my frustration with Caius, bad dreams and the world in general. Before setting off for Balmora in the afternoon, I went to get duties from Neminda. "Drulene Falen needs help with her guar herds again," she said, before I even had time to speak.

I stared. "What, _again_? Are the mudcrabs regrouping?"

Neminda shook her head. "Sounds like trouble with bandits – probably outcast Ashlanders. Would you be willing to help?"

Sheesh. This woman really couldn't catch a break, could she? Resisting the urge to say "only if I get more Hackle-Lo", I promised to go the next day, but first I had to report back to Caius.

"Thanks for your report." Caius said to me, when I showed him Hassour's notes. "But keep the notes – you'll need them. I'm promoting you, and sending you to the Urshilaku camp to speak with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa." He paused. "But before you go, I think it may be time to tell you what's going on."

I folded my arms. "Yes, I think it may be."

Caius let out a long breath and brushed his hand against his forehead. For the first time since I'd met him, he looked unsure of himself. Finally he said, "The Emperor and his advisors think you have the appearance of meeting the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies."

"What?"

"That's why you were pulled out of prison on his Majesty's authority and sent to me. So you could satisfy the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies and become the Nerevarine."

"What?!"

"Here," he said, handing me a piece of paper. "This is a decoded copy of the package you gave me when you arrived. It should explain everything."

For a moment I just looked at him, convinced that he was joking, but there wasn't even the ghost of a smile on his face. At last I set the letter down in front of me and began to read.

_Spymaster Caius Cosades_

_Knight-Errant of the Imperial Order of Blades_

_Director of Imperial Intelligence in Vvardenfell District, Eastern Provinces _

_I have the honour to acquaint you with his Majesty's wishes concerning Ada Ventura, an individual of no rank or consequence._

_Ada Ventura has been released from prison by his Majesty's authority and sent to you with this missive. She is to be entered as a Novice in the Imperial Order of the Blades, and is to serve under your absolute authority as you shall see fit, except insofar as his Majesty's particular wishes are concerned._

_His Majesty's particular wishes are as follows._

_A local superstition holds that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, shall unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and shall reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. This orphan and outcast is called in legend the 'Nerevarine', and is supposed to be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councillor, Lord Indoril Nerevar._

_Ada Ventura has the appearance of meeting the conditions of this local superstition. Therefore it is his Majesty's desire that she shall, insofar as is possible, satisfy the conditions of this ancient prophecy, and shall become the Nerevarine._

I stopped reading, and looked up at Caius. "_What_?!"

"It's all there in the letter," he said patiently. "The Emperor thinks you satisfy the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies. Can I be any clearer?"

I simply couldn't find words to express how ridiculous this was. "Caius… this is insane. There must be _thousands_ of people born on the same day as me to uncertain parents! I mean, no offence to his Majesty, but what in Arkay's name is he _thinking_? If he wants to create a puppet Nerevarine, surely it would make more sense to choose a male Dunmer?"

"Zainsubani says Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa at Urshilaku camp are the heads of the Nerevarine cult," he continued, as if he hadn't heard. "So I'm sending you to speak with them. Tell them your story, and have them test you against the Nerevarine prophecies."

I gaped at him. "You want me to go and tell a bunch of tent-dwelling savages, who want nothing more than to drive all foreigners out of Morrowind, that _I'm_ the reincarnated Saviour they've been waiting for all these years? They'll rip me to pieces!"

"Well, the package you gave me described the prophecy's conditions, and you seem to match them – "

"_Caius_! This. Is. Not. Going. To. Work." I slammed my hand down on the table. "No one in their right mind is going to believe that a 23-year-old Imperial woman is the Nerevarine! I don't believe it myself, so how the heck am I supposed to convince anyone else?"

"Don't dismiss it out of hand, Ada," he said softly. "You've seen for yourself that the Emperor and his counsellors think you have the 'appearance' of satisfying the prophecy. At first I thought we were just supposed to create a persuasive impostor, but…"

My jaw dropped. "You're not telling me you actually _believe_ this crap!"

Caius looked me directly in the eye. "I don't know what to think. But I am sure of one thing: This is _not_ just primitive superstition, and we will treat it seriously, just as his Majesty commands. _Won't we_, Ada?"

Okay, I thought, this is it. He's lost it. Gone completely and utterly off his rocker. I was starting to suspect that he wasn't even a Blades agent at all, just some lunatic with delusions of grandeur.

"Would you like me to leave you something in my will, Caius?" I asked bitterly.

He ignored me. "As I said, go to Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa, and have them test you against the prophecies, then report back to me. Here's 200 drakes for expenses, and you can pick up essential supplies at Fort Moonmoth."

I let out a sigh of pure exasperation. "All right, Caius," I said. "I will play along with this ridiculous charade, _for now_. But the minute anyone cottons on to what we're doing, I'm out of here – and don't go threatening me with arrest, because that's _nothing_ compared to what the Temple will do to me if they ever find out about this."

Ten minutes later I staggered into the Eight Plates tavern and flopped down on one of the barstools. "Cyrodilic brandy," I told the bartender. "A _large_ one. In fact, better make it a double."

I spent the rest of the evening trying to process what I had heard, but no matter how much I drank, it still didn't make any sense. Somehow, the Emperor – and Dagoth Ur, it would appear – had got the idea that I was the reincarnation of this Nerevar guy, or at least that I'd make a handy substitute for the real thing. But if the Emperor wanted a convincing 'fake' Nerevarine, how did I even begin to fit the bill? And if he really thought the prophecy was genuine, why would he even _want_ to make it come true? Didn't all the prophecies claim that the Nerevarine would drive the Empire out of Morrowind?

No, that couldn't be it – he had some kind of scheme, and I was just a pawn in whatever political game he was playing. For the first time since joining the Blades, I felt genuinely angry at what I'd been asked to do. He wants me to trick them, I thought. He wants me to go to these people, who have nothing left except dreams of their long-awaited messiah, and use those dreams against them.

Well, he had another think coming. If there was one thing I did remember from my history lessons, it was what happened to 'pretenders' who got found out, and it was _never_ good. I wasn't a fool, and I certainly wasn't going to make the mistake of thinking I'd be any different.


	15. Chapter 15: Licence To Kill

**Chapter 15: Licence To Kill**

I woke up in the inn with a stinking hangover and a strong conviction that I must have dreamed the last night's events. Unfortunately, the first thing I saw when I forced my eyes open was the translated letter from the Emperor, which was still clutched in my hands. I must have fallen asleep while reading through it, trying to find something – anything – to give me a clue of what this was _really_ all about.

For the moment I couldn't see any choice but to go along with this crazy scheme, however little I wanted to. After all, I thought, the Ashlanders would soon send me packing when they realised I wasn't the Nerevarine – and Caius would be forced to admit defeat and let me go back to Cyrodiil. If I survived that long, that was.

I had to take a 'Cure Poison' potion to get rid of the hangover before setting off on my latest Redoran mission. I won't bother to describe my second visit to Drulene Falen's farm, because it would be far too boring. Suffice it to say that I found and killed the bandits who were molesting Drulene's guar, and received more Hackle-Lo as a reward. The only vaguely interesting thing that happened to me was on the way back, when I ran into a well-dressed Argonian carrying a pile of clothing.

"Greetings, traveller," he called, speaking with a heavy accent. "Rasha wishes you well, and thinks you maybe can help him with some pressing business."

"What sort of business?"

"I have, you see, a shipment of clothing," he said, patting the shirts he carried. "Fine clothing, it is... to get to Ald-ruhn. But, I fear other business draws me away. Perhaps you and I might come to an arrangement, yes? If you will deliver Rasha's shirts… these fine, fine shirts... to Ald-ruhn, you will be paid for your services."

I couldn't help wondering why he wasn't able to deliver them himself, but I couldn't see any problem with accepting the offer. I was going back to Ald'ruhn anyway, and the worst thing that could happen was that they'd refuse to pay me. After taking a quick look at the shirts to check that they weren't cursed or anything (well, you never know), I nodded and told him I'd do it.

"Most excellent!" he cried. "I would ask that you swear an oath to Zenithar to seal our arrangement, though. Yes?"

"Um, okay," I said. "I swear to Zenithar that I will deliver your shipment."

"Wonderful!" He practically flung the shirts at me – and then, to my amazement, removed his own shirt and added it to the pile. "Take these to Bivale Teneran the clothier in Ald-ruhn – she will pay you. And a generous woman she is."

Bivale Teneran, the clothier who acted as a Hlaalu spy? My heart sank. She was the last person I wanted to speak to again, especially since I'd ratted her out to Neminda. Still, once I reached Ald'ruhn, maybe I could hand over the shirts to someone else and get them to complete the delivery.

"Take care, my friend," Rasha warned me as I made to leave. "One should not take an oath sworn to Zenithar lightly. No, never lightly."

I'd never sworn an oath to Zenithar before – or any of the other Divines, for that matter – but while I had no intention of breaking it, I wasn't exactly quaking in my boots at the thought of pissing off the god of _commerce_. What exactly was he going to do, get all the local merchants to charge me really inflated prices?

By the time I arrived back it was so late that all the traders had shut up shop, so I couldn't do anything else that evening. On my way back to the Fighters' Guild I ran into some other Guild members on their way to the tavern, who invited me to come and have a drink with them. I accepted, and spent several hours in the Rat in the Pot, happily regaling them with stories of my adventures in the Legion.

The next morning I went back to Neminda to report the success of my latest mission. She couldn't offer me any more duties for the moment, so I returned to Tuls Valen at the Temple to see if he had any tasks for me. I was less than thrilled when he suggested I undertake yet another pilgrimage – this time to Maar Gan, a Redoran town in the north. Still, it wasn't like I had anything better to do right now (no, visiting the Urshilaku camp definitely did not count as 'anything better').

Before setting off I went to visit the local alchemist to stock up on potions, but when I tried to purchase some, she shook her head. "Sorry. I'll do no business with one who bears the mark of Zenithar."

"The mark of Zenithar?" What, did suddenly I have a big 'Z' carved into my forehead?

She nodded. "It's obvious you've sworn an oath to Zenithar you've yet to fulfill."

"I was _going_ to fulfill it," I said, aggrieved. "Are you seriously saying no one will trade with me until I deliver those stupid shirts?"

"If that's what you've sworn to do, yes."

Bloody Zenithar! Well, so much for my idea of getting someone else to deliver the shirts. If His Holy Commercialness couldn't even wait a few hours for me to make the delivery, no doubt he'd consider that cheating.

With a heavy heart I set out for Bivale Teneran's store, only to realise half-way there that I didn't actually _have_ the shirts any more. I thought I'd put them in my pack, but now that I thought back to yesterday, I remembered that I'd carried them under my arm to stop them getting creased. I must have left them at the Guild, I thought, and set off to get them.

But when I got there, the shirts weren't there. I looked absolutely everywhere – in my equipment chest, under the bed, _in_ the bed – but I just couldn't find them. By now I was starting to feel mildly panicked. What was I going to do if I'd lost the shirts and couldn't fulfill my oath to Zenithar?

Suddenly, with a sinking heart, I realised where I must have left them. When I'd gone to the Rat in the Pot with the others the night before, I'd put them down on the back of one of the chairs while we drank – and I didn't remember picking them up again. And that place was the Thieves' Guild headquarters, I realised, groaning inwardly. I'd never see the damn things again.

What was I going to do now? All I could think of was to try and replace the shirts, but how could I do that when no one would sell me anything? Aaarrgh. This was definitely the last time I'd agree to swear an oath to one of the Divines.

Finally, out of sheer desperation, I went back to the Rat in the Pot to speak with the owner Lirielle Stoine. "I don't suppose you'd happen to have seen some expensive-looking shirts round here?" I asked, without much hope.

To my amazement, she reached under the counter and pulled out Rasha's shirts. "Would these be what you're looking for?"

"Yes," I said joyfully, clutching them to my chest. "Oh, thank you so much." Perhaps there was 'honour among thieves' after all – some of them, at least.

"Yak gro-Skandar handed them in after you left them behind last night," she said with a wink. "He said something about 'making it too easy'."

Blushing, I mumbled my thanks and apologies and left for Bivale's clothing store as quickly as possible. At this point I had to grudgingly admit that Zenithar might have a reason for considering me unreliable.

I had no idea how Bivale would react to seeing me again, since she must have heard by now about me leaving House Hlaalu for Redoran. But in the event she greeted me exactly as she had before, with the same friendly smile I remembered from our last meeting. She even gave me a very nice enchanted belt as payment for delivering the shirts. Had the Redorans actually taken any action against her? I couldn't tell.

I had to take the silt strider to Maar Gan, as there was no Mages Guild guide there. When I entered the town's Temple I found that the entrance hall was dominated by a large rock, with a plaque attached to it and a collection plate nearby. I was startled to see another Dremora, like the one in the Puzzle Canal in Vivec, standing there beside an armed guard.

When I approached the Daedra, wondering what he was doing there, he scowled at me. "I am Anhaedra. If you are a pilgrim, read the inscription on the stupid rock."

I went over to the 'stupid rock' and read the inscription: "_Here Mehrunes Dagon held this rock high above the Dunmer. Vivec taunted Mehrunes Dagon so that Dagon threw the rock at Vivec instead of the people._" Well, okay. What now?

I turned to the priest standing nearby for help. He smiled at me. "If you are on the pilgrimage here, I may assist you. Do you want the blessings of the Temple?"

"Um, I suppose so," I said uncertainly, and he cast what sounded like a Sanctuary blessing on me. Nice of him, I thought, but I still wasn't sure exactly what I was supposed to be doing.

I glanced back and forth from him, to the rock, to the Daedra, and then suddenly burst out laughing as I realised what was going on here. "Is _that_ what you're here for?" I said, striding up to Anhaedra. "Helping pilgrims to re-enact the rock-throwing scene?"

He looked impassively at me. "Your words are weak, mortal, as is your flesh."

"That's ridiculous," I said. "I mean, no offence, but that is _truly_ pathetic. You seriously just stand around here all day letting people make fun of you?"

I could see that he was starting to get annoyed, but he contained his anger with an effort. "Continue with your insults, mortal. I long to feast on your marrow."

"Oooh, I'm _scaaared_," I jeered. "Oooh, look at the big Dremora who wants to feast on my marrow. Are you going to throw rocks at me, Dremora?"

That did it. With a vicious snarl, Anhaedra drew a silver longsword from the sheath by his side. "After I kill you, I will rape your corpse," he growled. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

Charming, I thought. Still, I couldn't entirely blame him. If I were a Daedra magically bound to the mortal plane for eternity, forced to endure endless taunts and jeers for the amusement of smug pilgrims, I'd probably be threatening to rape people's corpses as well.

Fighting a Dremora would normally be a terrifying experience, but the Sanctuary spell the priest had cast on me made it all but impossible for Anhaedra to hit me. I struck him a couple of times with my own blade and he instantly vanished, leaving nothing behind but his sword and a Daedra heart. I couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for the guy, to be honest. Okay, so the Daedra are basically pitiless monsters who look on mortals roughly the same way we view insects, but surely even they didn't deserve a fate like this.

"You have done well, outlander," said the priest, as I turned back to him. "Wisdom and praise be unto you. Culminate your pilgrimage by reading the inscription on the rock."

Sighing, I read the inscription out loud once more and waited while the shrine cast another blessing on me. On leaving the temple I realised I'd have to stay the night here, as there was no silt strider service back to Ald'ruhn until the next day. I wondered what else there was to do in Maar Gan.

The answer to this turned out to be 'not a lot', so I paid for a room at the only tradehouse in the town and spent the rest of the evening there. I didn't know anyone, so I wasn't able to join in any of the conversation, but I did overhear an interesting rumour – apparently some rogue Ashlanders in a camp near the town were bragging about having captured a famous noble. Hmm, I thought. If he was a Redoran, wouldn't Neminda have told me about this?

The next morning I got up very early, just before dawn, and followed the innkeeper's directions to the Ashlander camp nearby. I found it a mile or so down the dirt road that led from Maar Gan to Ald'ruhn. Some Ashlanders were already sitting outside their yurt, cooking breakfast around a small campfire.

I really didn't want to have to attack anyone this time, so I approached the Ashlanders cautiously and asked if I could enter the yurt. They didn't seem to understand very well, so I repeated the question more slowly and carefully, pointing towards the tent. If they'd recognised me as a Legion soldier they might well have refused, but I'd left off my cuirass, remembering what my Ashlander informant Hassour Zainsubani had told me. One of them finally shrugged and nodded, before turning his back to me and continuing with his breakfast.

Inside the yurt I found an Ashlander man in netch leather armour and another male Dunmer, presumably the 'famous noble'. For a famous noble he was certainly dressed pretty shabbily, and I noticed that he was barefoot – perhaps to make it harder for him to escape. "_Sera_. Bless and be blessed," I said to the Ashlander, remembering how Hassour Zainsubani had greeted me. "I hear that you're holding a nobleman prisoner?"

"Yes, you heard right. I have the famous noble Beden Giladren." He gestured towards the other Dunmer. "I demand five thousand drakes in ransom. Will you pay?"

I didn't have five thousand drakes, and even if I had, there was no way I was paying him that kind of money. "May I speak to Beden?" I asked, stalling for time. "I don't have the money, but his family might."

The man looked me up and down briefly, noting the armour I wore and the scabbard hanging from my belt. At last he nodded and moved aside, allowing me to approach the prisoner. "Are you Beden Giladren?" I asked him, in a voice too low for the Ashlander to hear.

He nodded. "Can you get me out of here, outlander? These Ashlanders are holding me for ransom."

"I'll do my best, but I'm not going to pay them five thousand septims." I paused. "Are you a Redoran, then? I don't recognise the name."

Beden reddened slightly. "Well… no, I'm not. I'm just a poor pilgrim. I thought the Ashlanders would kill me, so I told them that I was a famous noble."

I couldn't believe this. "You bloody idiot!"

"Well, what was I supposed to tell them?" he hissed. "I was afraid. I knew it was wrong, but what else could I do?"

"If you'd just told them the truth, they'd probably have let you go." Heaving an exasperated sigh, I turned back to the Ashlander. "Excuse me, _sera_. About your hostage here."

"Yes?" he asked impatiently. "Have you not heard of this famous Redoran noble, Beden Giladren?"

"He's not a famous noble," I said through gritted teeth, ignoring the frantic gestures Beden was making. "He's not even a Redoran. He just told you those things because he was afraid you would kill him."

I watched the man's face gradually flush with anger as he realised how he'd been fooled. "So this 'famous noble' is a liar and a coward," he said scornfully. I could understand his disgust, to be honest, though I couldn't feel much sympathy for him. "Very well, you can have him for five drakes."

As I said before, I don't usually like paying ransoms, but this barely counted as a 'ransom' – it was a face-saving gesture, a sop to his wounded pride. I handed over five drakes – which was probably far less than he'd already spent on feeding his hostage – and he agreed that Beden was free to go. I hoped that perhaps this would teach these Ashlanders a lesson about attacking innocent travellers and holding them prisoner.

I offered to accompany Beden back to Maar Gan, but he told me he could make his own way there. Frankly I wouldn't have trusted this guy to walk from one end of the street to the other without getting into trouble, but it was his choice. I left the Ashlander camp and headed back to the town, arriving just in time to catch the silt strider to Ald'ruhn.

Beden had told me I should speak to someone at the temple in Ald'ruhn to explain what had happened to him. When I went back to Tuls Valen to tell him I'd completed the Maar Gan pilgrimage, I mentioned Beden's name and was directed to Lloros Sarano, a Redoran priest.

"So you rescued Beden Giladren from the Ashlander camp," he said at last, when I explained who I was and what had happened to Beden. "I was wondering what had happened to him. Thank you, Sera Ventura – I will make sure House Redoran hears of your deeds."

I still didn't feel like setting off on Caius's latest errand, so I went back to Skar in the hope that Neminda might have something for me to do. I found her looking anxious and harassed. "Ah, Ada!" she exclaimed. "I'm glad you're back. I have an urgent assignment for you."

"What sort of assignment?"

"Serjo Athyn Sarethi, a councillor of House Redoran, believes his life is in danger." She cast a nervous glance towards Skar's main chamber, where the entrances to the noble manors could be found. "He's in Sarethi Manor under Skar. I need someone to guard him."

"Okay, fine." I paused, trying to remember where I'd heard the name Sarethi just recently. Ah, yes – the author of _The True Noble's Code_, and… "Does he have a son called Varvur, by any chance?"

"Yes," she said, looking mildly surprised. "Have you met him?"

"Er… not exactly."

She bit her lip. "Oh, I hope Athyn is okay. He and my father were close friends, and the Sarethi family has had enough trouble recently."

I assumed she was referring to Varvur and the murder accusations, but there was no time to ask. Following her directions I headed straight for the Sarethi manor, hoping that I would get there in time. Somehow I had a very bad feeling about this.

As I entered the manor, my heart skipped a beat. A fight had clearly just taken place, and the floor was strewn with dead bodies – some in bonemold armour, others wearing masks and outfits made of dark leather. In the midst of them all stood a middle-aged Dunmer in a red robe, clutching what looked like a Dwarven shortsword, whom I desperately _hoped_ was Athyn Sarethi. Otherwise it would seem I'd got here a little late.

When the man saw me, his eyes widened and he shifted into a defensive stance. "It's OK!" I called to him, sheathing my own sword quickly and raising my hands. "Are you Serjo Athyn Sarethi? Neminda sent me to guard you."

"Oh, thank the Tribunal!" he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief. "The assassins have already taken my guards, as you see. I fear there will be mo- "

He broke off at the sound of a tremendous racket at the entrance to the mansion. Moments later two more leather-clad figures burst through the door, brandishing shortswords, and we seized our own weapons in preparation for a battle. I'm not sure I could have taken on both of them at once, but luckily Lord Sarethi seemed perfectly capable of defending himself. Having made short work of the second assassin, he stood back to mop his brow, and I saw through a tear in his robe that he was wearing chitin armour underneath it.

Looking down at the man I'd just killed, I saw a piece of folded-up paper tucked into his belt. I bent down to pick it up, and blinked in astonishment as I spotted the words at the top of the page. " '_Honourable Writ of Execution for Athyn Sarethi_'? What the _hell_ is this?"

He said nothing. "_The afore-mentioned personage has been marked for honourable execution in accordance to the lawful tradition and practice of the Morag Tong Guild_," I read aloud. "_The Bearer of this non-disputable document has official sanctioned licence to kill –_ This is some kind of sick joke, right?"

Lord Sarethi shook his head, still breathing heavily. "They are Morag Tong."

"Is that something like the Camonna Tong?"

"No, the word 'Tong' means 'guild'. And 'Morag'…" He hesitated. "The literal translation is 'Foresters'."

My mouth dropped open as I realised what he was saying. "Assassins? You have a bloody _guild_ of bloody _assassins_?" You know, I'd always suspected that the Dunmer were completely insane, but here at last was cast-iron proof.

Sarethi nodded stiffly. I just couldn't get my head round this. "So… something like the Dark Brotherhood? Only _legal_?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "Not like the Dark Brotherhood. The Morag Tong are not just cutthroats, they have honour…" I couldn't believe he was defending the people who'd just tried to kill him!

"Well, _they_ may have honour," I said grimly, "but the person who hired them clearly doesn't." I glanced back at the 'writ of execution', sickened at the thought of someone actually sitting down and writing these things. "Do you know who it was? I could pay them a little 'visit' and put the fear of Talos into 'em if you like."

But he was shaking his head. "No, thank you, outlander. You have done enough." He took the writ from my hand. "I am in your debt, and will try to repay you. Please, go and tell Neminda that I am safe."

By now I could hear voices further into the manor, and looking round I saw a few heads – presumably belonging to servants – peeking nervously out of doorways. Even so, I was a bit nervous about leaving Sarethi alone. "You don't think there'll be any more of them?" I asked him.

"No. Not today, at least."

"Okay then. Sorry about your guards," I said softly, glancing down at the bodies that littered the floor. He bowed his head, and said nothing.

"What happened?" Neminda asked urgently, as soon as I arrived back in the Council hall. "I heard there was an attack. Is Athyn Sarethi safe?"

When I explained what had happened, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much. Do you know that's the fourth Morag Tong attack he's fended off in the past few weeks?"

I let out a low whistle. "Wow. Someone really wants him dead, don't they?"

"Yes, and I know wh-" She broke off abruptly. "But no matter. Guard duties pay in drakes, Ada," she continued, handing me two hundred septims. "It's not much, but perhaps you can put it to good use."

She promoted me to Lawman rank, and reminded me that I'd need a Councillor to sponsor me if I wanted to rise further in the House. I wasn't particularly surprised when she recommended Athyn Sarethi. "He's a good man, and was a close friend of my father," she told me. "You will find no better sponsor in all of House Redoran."

Well, the guy whose life I'd just saved certainly sounded like a good choice, but I thought I'd give him a bit of time to recover and mop the blood off his floor before going to him and demanding sponsorship. Besides, I'd been putting off my visit to the Urshilaku long enough; it was time to get this Nerevarine nonsense over with once and for all. If I set out for their camp the next day, I could pay a visit to Athyn Sarethi when I got back – _if_ I got back. Which wasn't looking at all certain, I thought dourly.

As I left the hall, I wondered who could be ordering the assassination attempts against Sarethi. It sounded like Neminda knew, or suspected, but wasn't willing to tell – why? And if he was really such a good man as she claimed, why would anyone want him dead? The plot thickened.


	16. Chapter 16: A Harrowing Experience

A/N: Apologies for my appalling lateness in posting this chapter. To make up for it, this one is extra-long!

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Chapter 16: A Harrowing Experience**

After only a couple of weeks in the Ashlands, I was convinced that the cliff racers had it in for me _personally_.

It always happened the same way. I would be walking through the countryside, minding my own business, when I'd hear the cry of a racer somewhere in the distance and instantly freeze. My hand would fly to my sword and I'd scan the horizon desperately, hoping to spot the thing before it spotted me. Occasionally I'd manage to catch one unawares and pick it off with an arrow, but most of them would spot me as soon as I got close and come swooping down with a shriek, determined to tear apart the upstart human that dared approach within 200 feet of its nest.

I didn't know what the people of Vvardenfell had done to turn the local wildlife so rabid and vicious, but it must have been something pretty nasty. With all the trouble those birds caused, I wondered why people didn't just band together and hunt the things to extinction. Anyone who could manage it would probably be declared a living saint.

The Urshilaku camp was turning out to be more difficult to reach than I had expected. The village of Khuul to the west was the closest settlement, but in between them was an impassable mountain range. I could have tried to approach from the east, but there were no towns or even villages for miles around. In the end I decided to return to Maar Gan, the town I'd just visited, and head north from there up the Foyada Bani-Dad, another of those dried-up lava channels.

The journey took the best part of two days. I rested overnight in a small cave close to some Dwemer ruins, but first I had to drive out the bandits who had taken refuge there. I soon found out what they were guarding: Khajiit and Argonian slaves, six of them in total.

"Have you seen the Twin Lamps?" one of them asked me, as I removed her slave bracers.

Hang on, I'd heard that before somewhere. "Er… yes?"

"They light the way to freedom," she whispered, then hurried off after the others before I could ask any more questions. Clearly the poor sods were desperate to get out of that place. It wasn't until later that it occurred to me to wonder how, with no armour or weapons, they were going to make it back to safety.

It was around midday when I finally reached the Urshilaku camp, which seemed to be nothing more than a collection of yurts in a small clearing. In the end I'd chosen to wear my Legion cuirass after all, deciding that I'd rather face the wrath of the Ashlanders than the talons of the cliff racers. I don't know whether it was this, or just the fact that I was a human and an outlander, but I could sense the hostility and suspicion in the air as soon as I came within sight of the inhabitants. Several of them instantly disappeared inside their tents, and a few children playing near the edge of the camp were hastily dragged away by their parents.

I noticed that most of the tribespeople were barefoot, and wondered if this was part of their culture, or if they were just too poor to afford shoes. Certainly I found it hard to imagine why else anyone would choose to live like this. Don't get me wrong, I had plenty of admiration for anyone who could survive such harsh conditions; what I couldn't understand was why the heck anyone would _want_ to. Why struggle by on a hand-to-mouth existence when you could be living in a city, with warm, dry houses and hot baths and proper sanitation?

My first few attempts to talk to the Urshilaku didn't go too well. The first person I approached was an elderly woman, who greeted me with a scowl and a shake of her head. "Leave this place, Imperial. You and your people are not welcome here."

"What do you have against Imperials?" I very foolishly asked.

Her scowl deepened. "The Imperials came out of the West and tricked the gods of the settled people, the false gods called the Tribunal. Now the Imperials act like they own Morrowind, and they claim we are ruled by their chief, the one they call Emperor. We think nothing of this foolishness, but they have great armies of soldiers in armour who come and burn our yurts and slay our children." She ground her teeth. "So we hate them. Do you understand, outlander?"

"Well, there's no need to take it out on _me_," I mumbled, as she stalked off. "I never killed anyone's children." I couldn't imagine the Imperial soldiers I'd met doing anything like that, and I wondered if the things he described had happened before the Armistice. To a human, that was ancient history – but the Dark Elves had long lives, and long memories.

I tried several other people, male and female, but all of them either just waved me away or snapped at me in a language I didn't recognise. Finally, in desperation, I introduced myself to one slightly younger man by offering to bring him a gift – any gift he wanted. He looked at me with a faintly mocking smile, obviously recognising me straight away for a soft, city-bred Western type.

"You want to offer me a gift?" he sneered. "Poor outlander. Even these small things are a puzzle to you." His smile grew wider. "Then bring me some trama root for my larder. I am a hunter, and it is beneath my dignity to scrabble about in the dirt – but you? Perhaps this is a task you can handle."

From the smug expression on his face it was clear that he'd deliberately chosen the most demeaning task he could think of, and was expecting me to refuse outright - but this only made me more determined not to back down. I met his gaze with a defiant stare of my own. "All right," I said coolly, as if grubbing around in the soil for roots was something I did every day. "Where can I find some trama root?"

He shrugged. "There are many patches near to the camp. Go out and find some."

I waited until I was safely out of hearing before venting my feelings. I had plenty of opportunity, since the nearest patch of roots I could find was some way away. Trama root was a tough, spiny plant that was difficult to pull up even with steel gauntlets, and I didn't want to waste water from my canteen to soften the soil. In the end I just hacked a few pieces off with my sword.

The Ashlander man raised his eyebrows when I returned to him clutching handfuls of trama root. "Well, outlander, you are not proud," he said. "But you are courteous, and in an outlander, that is not a thing to be despised."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I had plenty of pride, that I'd only agreed to come here because I'd be executed if I didn't, and that I couldn't give a flying crap about him, his tribe, or his desire for trama root. But all that would have got me was a bollocking from Caius and quite possibly a fight, so I bit back my retort and forced myself to smile. "Very well, I accept your gift," he continued. "And thank you."

"Don't mention it," I said, doing my best to keep any trace of sarcasm out of my voice. "My name is Ada Ventura, by the way."

"Under sun and sky, Ada. I am Shabinbael."

"Good to meet you, Shabinbael." I paused. "Er… now that I've brought you a gift, might you be able to help me? I need to speak to Sul-Matuul or Nibani Maesa."

"And what do you wish to speak to them about?"

"Er… the Nerevarine prophecies."

Shabinbael frowned; clearly this wasn't an answer he'd been expecting. "You are an outlander," he said. "And you wish to talk of the Nerevarine prophecies? You are polite and well-mannered, for an outlander, and I do not think you mean to give offence. But why should you care about these prophecies?"

Okay, here came the _really_ difficult part. "Well, I know this is going to be very hard to believe, but…" I hesitated, steeling myself for the inevitable disbelieving response. "I've been told that I may fulfil the prophecies."

I wasn't sure whether I expected him to laugh, or hit me, or both. Looking back, I'm pretty sure all that stopped him doing one of those things was the fact that I'd just brought him trama root; if I was willing to humiliate myself by scrabbling around in the dirt for him, at least it showed I was serious. His eyes grew very wide, and he stared hard at me for several seconds.

"I do not believe what I am hearing," he murmured. "You think you are the Nerevarine? You do not look like the Nerevarine, but… you do not speak like a fool, or a madman."

Well, frankly, even this was a much better reception than I'd been expecting. "Go speak with Zabamund in his yurt," Shabinbael said at last. "He is a gulakhan, Sul-Matuul's champion, and he will decide what is right. If Zabamund gives you permission, then you may enter the Ashkhan's Yurt and speak with Sul-Matuul." He indicated one of a group of yurts under a canopy, presumably belonging to the leaders of the tribe.

So it was that I found myself facing yet another skeptical Ashlander, this one a warrior in chitin armour. This time I had the sense to introduce myself politely and offer him a gift before asking for anything else.

"I am not proud," he said with a shrug. "I like gold. This is the custom you outlanders call a 'bribe', yes?

My mouth fell open. For a moment I thought he was joking, but there wasn't a trace of amusement in his face. Wordlessly I took fifty drakes from my pouch and handed them over to him, hoping that would be enough.

Only then did Zabamund's lips curve into a faint smile. "Good," he said, as he pocketed the gold. "You come to talk? Then talk, outlander."

I explained that I needed to speak to Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa, and he shook his head. "You have no standing among us, outlander. But you speak well, and with respect, so I will explain: It is against our customs that an outlander should speak to an ashkhan or wise woman. I'll tell you also that Sul-Matuul has no love for outlanders."

Time to turn on the charm, I thought. If only I'd thought to bring some of that Telvanni bug musk. "I understand this, _sera_," I said, as humbly as possible. "But I have very important business to discuss with them. It concerns the Nerevarine prophecies."

Zabamund frowned. "The Nerevarine Prophecies are not for outlanders. Why should we speak to you about these things? Who are you, that we should trust you?"

Well, why indeed? All I could think of was to tell him all I'd learned about the prophecies, and hope that he would believe my admittedly ridiculous story. So I told him what had happened so far – leaving out all the parts about the Blades, of course – and watched his expression grow increasingly thoughtful.

"Hmm," he said, stroking his chin. "These are not simple matters. You know a great deal more than I would have thought – and some of what you say is news to me. I believe you should speak to Sul-Matuul. Go to the Ashkhan's Yurt, and tell him I have sent you."

The Urshilaku chief was a tall, middle-aged Dunmer, who carried himself proudly despite his humble surroundings. From the way he looked at me I could tell that he wasn't impressed, and he looked even less impressed when I explained what I was there for. Even so, he found it in himself to speak to me politely – which made for a nice change, I must admit.

"So. My champion Zabamund has sent you to talk with me about the Nerevarine prophecies," he said, with a manful attempt to feign interest. "Then go ahead, Ada. I am very curious."

By the time I'd finished telling my story yet _again_ I was just about ready to kill myself. Sul-Matuul still looked skeptical – not that I could blame him – but, rather to my amazement, he didn't immediately dismiss what I had said. "You think you fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies. You wish to be tested to see if you are the Nerevarine."

"Well, er – "

"No outlander may join the Nerevarine cult," he continued, before I could finish. "If you were a Clanfriend, an adopted member of the Ashlander tribes, then perhaps. I have an initiation rite in mind, and if you pass this rite, I will adopt you as a Clanfriend of the Ashlanders."

The phrase 'initiation rite' brought back unpleasant memories of my induction into the Fighters' Guild in Chorrol, courtesy of a bunch of loutish Colovians. They'd had great fun with the spoiled princess from the big city, oh yes. "What sort of initiation rite?" I asked, hoping at least that this one wouldn't involve live chickens and a Colovian fur helm.

He looked grave. "To be adopted into the tribe, you must undergo a harrowing."

"A _harrowing_?" Okay, this sounded bad. Really, really bad.

"In a harrowing, you will be judged by the spirits and ancestors to see if you are worthy," he explained. "Go to the Urshilaku Burial Caverns and fetch me the Bonebiter Bow of my father Sul-Senipul. Return to me with this bow, and I will adopt you into the Ashlander tribes as a Clanfriend."

I had to bite my tongue to suppress my exasperation. All I wanted was to be told I _wasn't_ the Nerevarine, and now I was expected to trudge through someone's burial caverns on yet another sodding fetch quest? Couldn't he just say "no" and be done with it?

"All right," I said at last, with deep reluctance. "Where can I find these burial caverns, and how will I recognise the bow when I see it?"

"The burial caverns lie to the south-southeast of the camp, a north-facing door in a little hill halfway between us and the slopes of Red Mountain. Be cautious, for the spirits of our ancestors guard the caverns – they will attack and kill you if they can. As for the bow, you will recognise it by the markings."

I wasn't quite so confident of this, but I thought I'd better make a move before it got dark. There was a distinct lack of anything resembling hotels in this place, and even a dank, ancestor-infested cave would be better than sleeping outside in this dustbowl. So, after refreshing myself with a few stamina potions, I set out to look for the Urshilaku burial caverns. It was already growing dark when I finally stumbled across the entrance.

After creeping through several long, dimly-lit passages guarded by rats and skeletons, I found myself in a large chamber that was mostly submerged in water. Several large stepping stones provided the only means of crossing the underground lake. Unfortunately they were quite far apart, and jumping across them in my heavy armour was no easy task. I managed to clear the first few, but on the third stone I mistimed the jump and plunged into the water.

Swearing loudly enough to wake the dead (literally), I struggled to the side of the lake and hauled myself out, coughing and spluttering. A Water Walking spell was definitely going to be first on my list when I next visited a Mages' Guild.

The next cavern I entered was another huge water-filled chamber, this one so tall that I could barely see the ceiling. I must have been further underground than I had realised. A waterfall tumbled down a huge central pillar, which was surrounded by a wet and slippery spiral ramp. Set into the outer walls, at varying heights, were doors to other burial chambers.

As I carefully made my way up the ramp, battered by spray from the waterfall, I noticed several mummified bodies on the central pillar. Each one was clutching what looked like a fantastic treasure – magically-preserved books, jewelled amulets, enchanted longswords of volcanic glass. Unfortunately they were all well out of reach, and in any case, I would have felt guilty about taking something so obviously valuable from a tomb.

I lost track of time completely while wandering through those caverns. Several times I paused to rest, eat and sleep, but I soon found it impossible to tell what time of day it was or how long I'd been in there. I'd hoped to find the bow fairly quickly and get out, but of course, that would have been too easy. On the plus side, I did manage to pick up some good loot in the form of scrolls and potions left behind by other adventurers – after all, I reasoned, they weren't much use to someone who was already dead.

Finally, at the very end of the topmost cavern, I came across a powerful-looking ancestor ghost carrying an enchanted chitin bow. Maybe this was Sul-Matuul's father, Sul-Senipul? I'd never know, because it attacked as soon as it spotted me, correctly recognising me for a greedy adventurer here to steal its precious bow.

This time my enchanted weapon made fairly quick work of the ghost, but just before giving up the – er, _ghost_, it cast a spell on me that made my muscles seize up painfully. What was more, the spell didn't wear off once the spirit had vanished. With a sinking heart I realised that it had struck me with some kind of curse, one designed to permanently reduce my agility. It could only be cured by a spell or potion, and I didn't have either.

So I slowly limped back to the Urshilaku camp, still somewhat damp, and half-crippled with the pain in my arms and legs. By the light level and the position of the moons and stars, I could tell that it was late evening – but as to what evening, I had no idea. I was so tired that it felt like I'd been wandering around those caves for weeks.

Sul-Matuul nearly jumped out of his skin when I entered his tent. For a moment he looked as if he'd seen a ghost, and I realised that he hadn't actually been expecting to see me come back. "So, outlander," he said, recovering his cool with impressive speed. "Have you completed the initiation rite?"

"Your bow, _sera_," I said, handing it over. If he told me it was the wrong one after all I'd been through, I was going to hack him to death with his own battle axe.

Sul-Matuul briefly examined the bow. "This is my father's Bonebiter Bow," he said at last. "You have completed the initiation rite. I name you, Ada Ventura, Clanfriend of the Ashlanders. Keep my father's bow, and bear it with honour."

"Really?" I asked in astonishment. "I can keep it?" It was a nice bow, I had to admit, with a fairly powerful enchantment.

He nodded. "You are a friend of our tribe, and may rest in any Urshilaku bed, but do not harm other tribe members, or take their things. And now I will fulfill my other promise. Go to the wise woman's yurt, and Nibani Maesa shall examine you and test you against the Nerevarine prophecies."

All I really wanted to do was take a Restore Agility potion and go to bed, but I decided it was best to get the Nerevarine business over with first. Just as I was about to leave, I thought of something else to ask him. "I don't suppose you'd be able to tell me what day it is by my calendar?"

"I cannot tell you, but it has been two days since you left for the burial caverns."

Two days? That would make it the twenty-first of… hang on, the twenty-first of Heartfire? That was my _birthday_. I'd just spent the whole of my twenty-third birthday crawling through a filthy underground tomb, being stabbed and hacked at and gnawed by rats and shot full of arrows, for the sake of a mission I _knew_ to be completely futile and pointless. I suddenly found myself uncomfortably close to tears.

Under the circumstances it would probably have been better to wait until the next morning before visiting Nibani Maesa. The way I was feeling now it was pretty much inevitable that we'd rub each other up the wrong way, and Nibani managed to irritate me from the moment I laid eyes on her. "So. They've told me of you, outlander – or shall I say, Clanfriend." She nodded slowly. "You are hard-headed. And ignorant."

I was already in a pretty bad mood, and at this point I came very close to losing my temper. Where did she get off calling me 'hard-headed and ignorant' when she'd only met me ten seconds ago? I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could speak she went on: "But perhaps it is not your fault."

"Nice to meet you too," I said through gritted teeth. She wouldn't be getting any 'thoughtful gifts' from me, that was for sure.

"My lord ashkhan says you will ask me about the Nerevarine prophecies," she continued. "He also says I will test you against the Nerevarine prophecies. I must do as my lord ashkhan says… so ask your questions, and I will test you."

"Okay, well…" I hesitated, realising that I really didn't have a clue what to ask her about. "How will I know if I fulfill the prophecies?"

Nibani shrugged. "There are many Nerevarine prophecies, and they suggest many things. Aspect and uncertain parents. The moon-and-star. Sleepers. Seven curses. The curses' bane. The prophecy of the Stranger. The prophecy of the Seven Visions. And the lost prophecies."

My head was beginning to spin. Some of those things certainly sounded familiar –uncertain parents, Sleepers, and the prophecy of the Stranger – but 'seven curses'? 'Seven visions'? The 'Lost Prophecies'? How many of these dratted prophecies were there, anyway?

"Ask me of these things," she went on, "if you are patient, and would be wise. Or if you are impatient to know, just ask: "Do I pass the test of the Nerevarine prophecies?"

I took a deep breath. "Look, I don't want to be rude, but… I'm cold. I'm wet. I'm incredibly tired." I paused for effect. "I've just spent the best part of two days wandering around underground caverns fighting hordes of undead, and one of them cast a spell on me that makes every step I take hurt like hell. I really, really don't want to waste any more of anyone's time, so… if I _don't_ pass the test, then yes, I'd rather just be told. If you wouldn't mind."

Nibani regarded me silently for several seconds before answering, as if searching for something. Finally she said, "You are not the Nerevarine."

Relief flooded over me. "Thank you," I breathed, unable even to make a pretence of being disappointed. "Well, in that case – "

"But you are one who may _become_ the Nerevarine."

"What?" My hopes, which had briefly soared, came crashing down again.

"It is a puzzle, and a hard one," she said, nodding. "But you have found some of the pieces, and you may find more. Do you choose to be the Nerevarine?"

_No! No, I bloody don't! _"I, er…"

"Then seek the lost prophecies among the Dissident priests of the Temple," she told me. "Find the prophecies, bring them to me, and I will be your guide. But first, let me tell you the prophecy of the Seven Visions."

Before I could object, she had begun to recite what sounded like another of those crappy poems. Reluctantly I dug out my journal, and did my best to write it down as she spoke – none of this rote-learning nonsense for _me_, thank you very much.

_Seven trials  
What he puts his hand to, that shall be done.  
What is left undone, that shall be done._

_First trial  
On a certain day to uncertain parents  
Incarnate moon and star reborn._

_Second trial  
Neither blight nor age can harm him.  
The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies._

_Third trial  
In caverns dark Azura's eye sees  
And makes to shine the moon and star._

_Fourth trial  
A stranger's voice unites the Houses.  
Three Halls call him Hortator._

_Fifth trial  
A stranger's hand unites the Velothi.  
Four Tribes call him Nerevarine._

_Sixth trial  
He honours blood of the tribe unmourned.  
He eats their sin, and is reborn._

_Seventh trial  
His mercy frees the cursed false gods,  
Binds the broken, redeems the mad._

_One destiny  
He speaks the law for Veloth's people.  
He speaks for their land, and names them great._

Apart from the 'certain day to uncertain parents' part, I had no idea what any of this meant. "What's all this about 'moon-and-star' and 'curse-of-flesh'?"

"Legend says Indoril Nerevar's family standard bore the moon and star, and Nerevar's armour and weapons bore this sign. Some say he bore a moon-and-star birthmark, or has a magic ring marked with a moon-and-star, or was born under a moon-and-star." Well, certainly none of those things were true of me. "I'm not sure what the Second Trial means – will the Nerevarine come as a spirit who is not harmed by blight or age? But I think Curse-of-Flesh means the blight disease Corprus, which causes terrible, distorted growths on its victims. Perhaps the Nerevarine will be able to heal this disease."

So the Nerevarine was supposed to be ageless, immune to disease, and possess miraculous healing powers? I was starting to get the feeling that it would be a long time before this guy showed up. "All right… what are the Lost Prophecies?"

"There are Nerevarine prophecies that have been lost." Well, _duh_. "Some are forgotten, some hidden, some deliberately lost. But we hear that the Dissident Priests of the Temple study our Nerevarine prophecies, and record them in books. You must go to them and ask for these books, and bring what you find to me."

I heaved a long, exhausted sigh, too tired to argue. "Okay... I'll think about it. But first I'm going to bed. I don't suppose there's anywhere I could get a bath round here?" I added, without much hope.

She looked at me with undisguised scorn. "A bath? Do you think we have water to spare for such luxuries, outlander? If you stay here you may wash with a bucket and a cloth, as we always have done."

This was the moment where I completely lost it. I'd done my level best to be polite to everyone I met here, having been led to believe that the Ashlanders valued courtesy, only to find that being an outlander made me fair game for sneers and carping and barely-concealed insults. It was far from the worst thing anyone here had said to me, but her tone of voice – combined with the 'gods, what a stupid outlander' expression on her face – tipped me right over the edge into outright fury.

"Fine, have it your way. I'll just be getting back to civilisation, then," I said, with heavy emphasis on the word 'civilisation'. Just by the tent flap, I paused for a parting shot. "I hope you're a damn sight more polite to the _real_ Nerevarine when he turns up, because frankly I wouldn't blame him if he decides you're not bloody worth saving!"

And with that I stormed out of the yurt – wishing there was a door to slam behind me – and out of the camp. The effect was spoiled a little by the fact that I couldn't take a step without wincing, and even more so when I realised that wandering around the Ashlands in pitch darkness was a recipe for certain death. I tried to cast an Almsivi Intervention spell, but I was so exhausted and pissed off that I could barely even remember the words. I had to drink three Restore Magicka potions before I finally got it right.

Back in Gnisis – which was apparently the closest place with a Temple – I paid for a room in the tradehouse and went straight to bed. I didn't even have the energy to take a bath first, or buy a potion to cure the stiffness in my limbs. That had to wait for the next day, as did unloading the loot I'd collected on the local shopkeepers. After that I took the morning silt strider back to Ald'ruhn.

I was well aware that I couldn't expect Nibani Maesa to help me any more now, but to be honest, I didn't really care all that much. As far as I was concerned, I had my answer. If Caius honestly thought I was going to _voluntarily_ set out to become the Nerevarine, when I'd already been told I wasn't, he needed his head examined.

Back in Ald'ruhn I went to visit Councillor Athyn Sarethi to see if he'd be willing to sponsor me in House Redoran. A servant showed me into Lord Sarethi's study, where he greeted me with a smile. "Ah yes, Ada. Neminda has been telling me of your service to the House." He paused. "I hear that you come to us from House Hlaalu."

I winced. "Look, we all do crazy things when we're young and stupid, right? Like getting really drunk at a family wedding, or joining House Hlaalu. There's no need to rub it in."

His lips twitched. "Very well. Serve House Redoran faithfully, and we will speak no more of it. But I must warn you of one thing, Ada," he continued. "If I agree to sponsor you, you will be a Kinsman in the House, and family. No other House will take you in if you are expelled from Redoran."

"Okay. I understand."

"I would consider sponsoring an outlander," Sarethi went on. "I have done so before, when the circumstances warranted it. But first, there is one more task I must ask of you."

What, wasn't saving his life _enough_? I mean, I wasn't expecting a medal or anything, but this did seem just the teensiest bit ungrateful. I nodded silently, trying to look as if I didn't mind, but Sarethi didn't appear to notice; he seemed too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"Archmaster Bolvyn Venim holds my son hostage for a crime I know he did not commit," he said at last. "If you want me as your sponsor, you must rescue my son Varvur and return him to me."

I stared at him. "Your son? Archmaster Venim _kidnapped_ your son?" A dreadful realisation began to dawn on me. "When… when did this happen, exactly?"

"I am not sure exactly how or when he was taken, but he has been missing for nearly two weeks."

My heart sank. If I wasn't mistaken, I _did_ know exactly how and when Varvur had been kidnapped – that evening at the Rat in the Pot when I'd seen him for the first time. No wonder the guards had reacted so badly when I tried to intervene; they'd probably slipped a sleeping potion into his drink while no one was looking. But how could I possibly have known?

Suddenly I felt like the worst person in the world. No wonder Lord Sarethi had asked for another favour; right now he'd probably do anything to get his son back. "Okay, I'll do it," I said instantly. This was my kind of job, after all: righting wrongs, fighting injustice and rescuing damsels in distress (or whatever the male equivalent of a damsel is).

"Why would Venim do something like this?" I asked, and then it hit me. "He's the one who's been sending assassins after you, isn't he?"

Sarethi didn't directly answer the question, but I could tell from his expression that I'd guessed correctly. There was no anger in his face, only sadness.

"He is a strong leader, and has done great things for House Redoran. How can I explain the hold he has over the hearts of the Redoran people? He brought us back from certain defeat. He moved the council here to Vvardenfell and took our share of the frontier lands. He is a natural leader, born to rule." He sighed. "One only wishes he was just and fair as well as strong."

Clearly this was as close as he was willing to get to criticising the Archmaster. "How will I find Varvur?" I asked eventually.

"He is being held in Venim Manor, which is the first manor to your right when you enter Skar. I have heard Venim is keeping him in the right wing of his manor." Sarethi hesitated. "Kill the guards if you must, but you must be careful not to kill Venim himself, or the other councillors will turn against you."

I hoped to be able to rescue Varvur without killing anyone at all. There was no way I could fight an entire houseful of guards, and besides, presumably they were only following Venim's orders. I left Sarethi Manor, deep in thought, and spent the rest of the evening trying to come up with a plan.


	17. Chapter 17: I Am The Nerevarine

**Chapter 17: I Am The Nerevarine**

The next morning, when Skar was crowded enough for me to approach Venim Manor without being noticed, I cast the Chameleon enchantment on my Amulet of Shadows and slipped into the house as a servant entered. I caught my breath as I entered the main hall, which was impressive even by the standards of the other noble manors I'd seen. It was two stories high, sumptuously decorated, and dominated by a huge flower arrangement in the centre, which included several of those giant mushrooms I'd seen in the Ascadian Isles.

Unfortunately I didn't have time to stop and look around. I headed through a doorway into the right wing of the manor, down a corridor, then through another door and down a flight of stairs. The hallway here was guarded only by a lone female Dunmer wearing Dwarven armour, but I couldn't see any doors to rooms where Varvur might be imprisoned.

I knew I didn't have much time – I could re-cast the amulet's enchantment a few times, but eventually the magical charge would run out. I noticed a scrap of paper and a key lying on a nearby bench, and tiptoed over to see what was written on the paper.

_Malsa,_

_Keep our special guest in the room behind the tapestry. Make sure the door is locked and that he is under guard at all times. If he escapes, I will blame you._

_V_

Glancing round, I spotted a tapestry hanging at the end of a long passage and realised that this must be the one mentioned in the note. Poor Malsa… still, it was her fault for being stupid enough to leave a note like that lying in plain sight. With no time to lose, I snuck up behind her and used my Star of the West power to silently knock her out. I caught her in my arms as she slid to the ground – ye _gods_, she was heavy in all that armour – and managed to drag her out of sight behind the staircase, before grabbing the key and hurrying down the passageway to open the hidden door.

The miserable little room behind the tapestry reminded me of my own cell in the Imperial City's prison. It was small, windowless and bare, furnished only with a bedroll, a bucket, and a small table in one corner. On the table was a candle and a bowl containing a single kwama egg.

Sitting on the bedroll was the young man I'd seen in the Rat in the Pot tavern a week or so earlier. He wore only pants, and looked tired and depressed, but apart from a few scrapes and bruises – presumably acquired during a struggle with his captors – he appeared unhurt. As the door creaked shut behind me, he leapt to his feet in alarm. "Who's there?"

"_Sssshh,_" I hissed, pulling off the Amulet of Shadows.

His eyes widened. "You're an Imperial!"

"Congratulations," I said, and then took pity on him. "Varvur Sarethi, I take it?"

"Yes, I am Varvur. Did my father send you?" he went on anxiously. "Are you here to rescue me?"

I nodded. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. Well… mostly."

"What happened?"

"I am not sure," he said slowly. "The last thing I remember before waking up here is drinking in a tavern with some of Venim's guards nearby. I think they must have drugged my glass with a sleeping potion." He bit his lip in anger and humiliation. "They even took all my clothes while I was unconscious. When I woke I tried to fight my way past them, but…"

I nodded sympathetically. "Do you have any idea why Venim would do this?"

"He and my father are political enemies. I think he planned to use me against my father." Varvur glanced down, noting that I was armed. "Can you take me back to Sarethi Manor?"

"Well, I'll do my best." At this point, far too late, it occurred to me that I really should have brought some Divine or Almsivi Intervention scrolls. After a moment's thought, I handed the Amulet of Shadows to Varvur. "This still has some charge left on it. Cast it when we leave the room, and hopefully it'll last until we get out of the manor."

"And if the enchantment wears off?"

"I'll hold off the guards. You run."

He looked doubtful, but finally nodded. "Very well."

We set off together, going a little more slowly this time so as not to attract attention. Unfortunately I hadn't quite memorised the layout of the manor correctly, and ended up taking a longer and more circuitous route than I had come by. Even so, we were _almost_ at the door to Skar when I heard a loud yell behind me and realised we'd been spotted.

I rushed to the door, flung it open, and shoved Varvur through it. "RUN!" I shouted, then turned around and hurled a fireball spell at the advancing guards. It wasn't enough to seriously harm any of them, but the ensuing chaos gave me time to escape through the door after Varvur, slamming it shut behind me.

We tore across the bridges spanning Skar's central chamber, barrelling past unsuspecting Redoran guards and passers-by, without bothering to check whether anyone was following us. What the astonished onlookers must have thought to see me racing across Skar with a half-naked young Redoran noble in tow, I have no idea. We didn't stop until we reached the safety of Sarethi manor, where Varvur shoved past the guards at the door and headed straight for the main hall. "Father!"

"My son!" Athyn Sarethi practically ran up the hall to greet Varvur, folding him into a tight hug. A well-dressed noblewoman, presumably Varvur's mother, emerged from a back room to see what was causing all the commotion; when she saw Varvur, she let out a squeak of joy and rushed over to embrace her husband and son. I watched the touching scene with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, and was about to slink away quietly when Athyn detached himself from the group and came over to me.

"_Muthsera_. Words cannot express my gratitude." He grasped my hands tightly. Tears were running down his face, and it was only now that I realised what kind of nightmare the past couple of weeks must have been for him.

"For this I will sponsor you in House Redoran," he continued. "You may come to me now for duties and advancement… Kinsman. Only give me a little time, and I will have more tasks for you."

I thanked him and made a hasty exit, my cheeks burning. It's always nice to be appreciated – sheesh, it happens rarely enough – but I never really know what to do or say when people start getting emotional. (Maybe I should have taken a tip from those knights in the fairy-tale books, and asked him for half his fortune and Varvur's hand in marriage.)

The only downside to all this, of course, was that Archmaster Venim was _not_ going to be happy when he discovered what had happened. If he didn't know yet who was responsible for freeing Varvur, no doubt he soon would. Certainly I'd made a friend for life in Athyn Sarethi, but I'd also managed to seriously piss off the head of my House – a man already known for his hatred of outlanders. That didn't bode well for the future.

I figured Athyn could do with some time alone with his family, so after buying a few new spells – Water Walking from the Mages' Guild and a magicka resistance spell at the Temple – I took a trip back to Balmora to see Caius. "Have you spoken with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa?" he asked as soon as I entered.

"Yep."

"And what did they say?"

"That I'm not the Nerevarine," I said, after only a slight pause.

Caius wasn't so easily fooled, unfortunately. "What _else_ did they say?"

I sighed. "Okay… so Nibani said I was someone who might _become_ the Nerevarine. But I don't believe her," I said quickly. "I mean, either I am this guy's reincarnation or I'm not, right? Anyway, I couldn't go back to her even if I wanted to."

"Why not?"

I explained how I'd quarrelled with Nibani Maesa, uncomfortably aware by this time that Caius was not likely to be impressed. When I'd finished, he shook his head. "Oh, Ada. When will you learn to control that temper of yours?"

"Well, she _started_ it!" I said indignantly. "Would you believe she called me 'hard-headed' and 'ignorant'?"

A smile hovered around his lips. "Well, ah…"

"Don't you _dare_," I warned him.

Caius snorted with amusement, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Threatening me now, are you? You're developing a nasty habit of playing with fire, my girl."

"Caius, I _told_ you right from the start that I wasn't suited to this job. Is it my fault if you didn't listen? Look, I'm sorry," I said wearily, as his frown deepened. "I really am, but I'm not going to magically change into a different person just because the Emperor wants it." I threw up my hands. "Couldn't we just ditch this idea of me becoming the Nerevarine? Tell His Majesty I wasn't up to the task. There has to be _someone_ out there who'd do a better job of it than I would."

For several seconds he just stared at me without answering. From the look on his face, I got the impression he was getting as tired of this endless battle as I was. "Tell me what else the Ashlanders said to you," he said at last.

Reluctantly I took him through the notes I'd made in my journal, including the prophecy of the Seven Visions. "Look at this," I begged him. "How does any of this even remotely relate to me? And what's Azura got to do with anything?" I added, noticing the reference for the first time. Azura was one of the Daedric Princes – the goddess of dusk and dawn, if I remembered correctly. How and why she should be mixed up with this Nerevarine business was beyond me.

"I don't know," he said. "As to what you've said… well, I'll think about it. But in the meantime, I have one more assignment for you – a very tough one, this time."

I let out a sigh of pure exasperation. "All right, Caius: _one_ more. But after that I'm going back home, with or without your permission. Understood?"

"I recommend you take time to improve your skills," he continued, pretending not to have heard me as usual. "You know the drill – do a few jobs for the guilds, cash in some loot, and upgrade your equipment. Here're 400 drakes that might come in handy. And when you're ready, come back to me, and I'll give you your next mission."

While I was anxious to get everything over with so that I could go home, I wasn't going to argue with this. Frankly, anything that gave me an excuse _not _to see Caius for a week or two was a bonus as far as I was concerned. No doubt he had his fellow Blades keeping an eye on me, but I could work out how to deal with that later. I was determined not to let him bully me into staying in Morrowind a day longer than I had to.

Thinking I'd had enough excitement for one day, I went back to Ald'ruhn to rest. The next day I dropped by Sarethi Manor to see how Athyn and his family were doing, and he greeted me so warmly that I almost felt sorry I'd be leaving the country in a few weeks. It was such a refreshing change to come across someone who was actually pleased to see me.

Even so, as I spoke to him, I could sense that he was worried about something. "Is everything okay?" I asked, foolishly adding, "Can I do anything to help?"

Sarethi hesitated. "There is another favour I would ask of you, if you would. You may have heard that my son Varvur has been accused of foul murder."

I nodded, remembering what I'd heard in the tavern the night Varvur was kidnapped. "Bralen Carvaren was one of Varvur's friends," Athyn went on. "I cannot believe that my son would do such a thing, but the evidence is... persuasive."

"Er… what is the evidence?"

"I think you should start by speaking with my son," Athyn said quietly. "He is in his room in the guard quarters."

I couldn't really see why he thought his son would confide in a virtual stranger, even if I _had_ rescued him from Venim, but I followed his directions to the guard quarters and found Varvur's room. The young man was lying on the bed, now richly dressed, but otherwise looking even worse than he had when I'd found him in Venim's manor. His face was a sickly shade of pale grey, and there was a haunted look in his eyes which wrung my heart.

When he saw me, he raised himself up on his elbow and gave me a weak smile. "I am sorry, I am not feeling well. What can I do for you?"

"Your father asked me to speak to you about Bralen Carvaren." He let out a groan and sank back onto the pillows, half-closing his eyes. "Could you tell me what happened?" I asked as gently as possible, sitting down beside him on the bed.

"I didn't kill him. He was my closest friend." He shook his head. "The guards found me near his body, but I don't remember anything that happened that night."

"What, nothing at all?" That sounded a little too convenient.

"No, nothing."

I laid a hand on his arm. "Varvur?" I said softly. "If you won't tell me the truth, I'm not going to be able to help you."

"I tell you that I don't remember anything!" He looked directly up at me for the first time, his eyes blazing with anger. "We had been drinking at the Rat in the Pot. All I know is that we left the tavern together, and then… the next thing I remember is being woken by the guards in the morning, with Bralen's body nearby. I was covered in his blood…" He shut his eyes again, exhausted by the effort of speaking, and I thought I heard him murmur, "Just like in the dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Sometimes I kill Bralen in my dreams," he whispered. "It's... horrible. But that doesn't mean I killed him, does it? I was having bad dreams before he died."

Poor kid, I thought. Clearly he was more ill than I had thought; he sounded almost delirious. What was more, I had a horrible feeling that I'd heard of this before: people going mad and attacking friends or relatives in a frenzied rage, then being unable to remember anything about it afterwards. If this was what had happened to Varvur, it was bad news: even if he was found innocent of murder, he'd probably have to be locked up for his own good.

I glanced around the room, searching for inspiration, and my eye fell on a small and incredibly ugly statue standing on a shelf near the bed. It was painted red and black, and looked as if it was made of ash. I don't usually have strong reactions of any kind towards art, but this thing really was downright hideous – almost sinister, in fact. As I looked at it I could swear that its three crudely-carved 'eyes' were staring back at me, and for a moment I thought I could hear faint whispers in my head, like the ones I'd heard in the depths of Llevule Andrano's tomb.

"Varvur," I said carefully. "Do you remember where you got this statue?"

"Hmm?" He looked at it through bleary eyes. "Oh… no. I don't remember."

"Would it be alright if I took it for a while?"

He nodded. "Yes, take it. Maybe if you take it away, the dreams will stop…"

I picked up the statue gingerly – for some reason, I was incredibly reluctant to touch it – and carried it through to the main hall where Athyn was waiting. "Have you seen anything like this before?" I asked him. "I know it sounds strange, but… there's something about it that really bothers me."

Athyn took the statue from me and examined it carefully. "This ash statue troubles me," he said at last. "I would have you speak with someone at the Temple about this. Perhaps Lloros Sarano would know more of it."

I headed over to the Temple, where I asked the Redoran priest Lloros Sarano to take a look at the statue. He examined it closely for several minutes before setting it down.

"Thank you, Ada," he said. "Yes, I can see there is some kind of conjuration enchantment on this statue. I believe it influenced Varvur Sarethi in some manner, causing him to kill his friend Bralen Carvaren."

"You really think so?" I looked doubtfully at the statue. I'd never heard of an enchantment like that before… but then again, a sufficiently powerful and unscrupulous mage could probably do almost anything with magic.

"Tell Varvur to come and speak with me," Lloros advised me. "When I am sure that he is no longer influenced by the statue, I will have him cleared of Bralen's murder."

I returned to Varvur to find that he was looking better already; he seemed much more alert, and his face had returned to its normal colour. I told him what Lloros Sarano had said, and he nodded. "Maybe he can do something about these bad dreams. I will see him as soon as I can."

"Do you remember who gave you the statue now, by any chance?"

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I got it from Galtis Guvron at the Rat in the Pot. In fact… it was Bralen who persuaded me to buy the statue." He bowed his head, and for a moment I thought I saw tears in his eyes. Poor guy, I could only imagine what he was feeling right now.

After Varvur had left the manor, Athyn Sarethi and I waited anxiously in the entrance hall for his return. About half an hour later he reappeared, looking incredibly relieved, and said something to his father in a low voice, glancing at me as he did so. Athyn patted him on the shoulder, murmured something in response, and waited until he had left the room before turning to me.

"It seems that my son's name will be cleared soon," he said. "Thank you, Ada. I knew he could not be a murderer, but I did not know of the influence of these ash statues."

Something was still preying on my mind. "But why would anyone give your son something like that? Do you think it could be…" My voice trailed off. No, surely that was just too far-fetched.

Athyn shook his head. "I don't know. I assume this Galtis Guvron is one of my son's friends, but I have not heard of him or his family. Perhaps you should speak to Lloros Sarano about this?" I nodded and made to leave, but he held me back. "Before you go, I must thank you again for all you have done for my family. I am forever in your debt."

"Don't mention it. Glad I could help," I said, telling the truth for once. I liked Athyn Sarethi. He wasn't an arrogant snob like many of the nobles I'd met, who seemed to look down contemptuously on anyone who actually had to work for a living. I wondered if he might be willing to help me get out of Morrowind once I'd finished my latest Blades mission – not that I was one to keep score, but he certainly owed me a favour or two.

Back in the Temple, Lloros Sarano agreed that the ash statue business needed investigating, and suggested that I speak to Galtis Guvron at the Rat in the Pot. I decided to put on my Legion uniform first – I had a feeling that I might need it, and it turned out I was right.

I found Guvron, a pawnbroker, in a back room of the tavern. There was nothing obviously suspicious about him, and he was entirely polite until I brought up the subject of ash statues, when his eyes grew wide with shock.

"How could you...?!" He broke off. "No, never mind. I'll just have to take care of this _right now_."

Without a word of warning he pulled out a dagger he had concealed under his shirt. I'd been semi-prepared for some kind of confrontation, but I hadn't expected him to attack me the moment I mentioned ash statues. Luckily the guy wasn't much of a fighter, but though I yelled at him several times to surrender, I was eventually forced to deal him a fatal blow. I'd been hoping to get some information out of him; now I'd have to hope I could find something useful on his corpse or at his house.

Here, again, I was lucky. There a few more ash statues amongst the goods he was selling, and in one of his pockets I found a note from someone called 'Hanarai'. It read as follows:

_Here is another crate of statues. These are to be placed here in Ald'ruhn. Place the statues quickly and wisely. Destroy this note. Do not disappoint me again._

_Hanarai_

Hmm… there was definitely something strange going on here. I had no idea who Hanarai was, so I went back to Lloros Sarano and showed him the note. "Perhaps this 'Hanarai' is Hanarai Assutlanipal," he said. "She claims to be an outcast Ashlander. Her house is the first one on the right down the stairs from the Temple… but she may be as unwilling to talk as Galtis, so take these potions in case you need them." He handed me several Restore Health potions and some others which would cure common and blight diseases.

I approached Hanarai's house with a deep sense of foreboding, and once again it turned out to be justified. Hanarai didn't even blink when I entered her house without warning; she just stood there calmly, as if she had been expecting me. A chill ran through me as I realised that I'd seen her before: she was the crazed 'Sleeper' who'd accosted me in the streets of Ald'ruhn a few weeks back.

The moment she saw me, a terrible smile spread over her face. "_It is the Hour of Wakening,_" she hissed. "_Dagoth Ur awakes, and comes forth in his glory, and his people shall rejoice, and his enemies shall scatter like dust._" And with that, she drew a dagger and attacked me.

Hanarai was a better fighter than Galtis Guvron, but with no armour and only a chitin dagger, she didn't stand much of a chance. She still fought like a demon, refusing to yield even as her life ebbed away. All I found on her body was a few gold coins and another of those small ash statues.

I searched the house for any more evidence of what Hanarai and Guvron were mixed up in. Down the stairs in the lower part of the house, I found a door that was locked and enchanted with a magical trap. After a few tries I got my 'Ondusi's Unhinging' spell to break the lock, and managed to disarm the trap with one of the probes I carried, allowing me to open the door safely. When I saw what lay in the cellar beyond it, I wished I hadn't.

The underground room was lit only by candles and bathed in an eerie red light. It appeared to be some sort of shrine, dominated by a large red-and-black banner covered in strange symbols. In front of the banner was a bowl containing what looked like hunks of rotting meat. They looked absolutely foul, and smelled even worse.

In a corner of the room, a large ash statue stood on a packing crate. I searched the crate to find that it was full of the horrible things, tightly packed together. So _this_ was what the Sixth House cultists had been smuggling.

Shuddering, I left the house and went back to tell Lloros Sarano what I had found. He listened in horror to my description of the Sixth House 'shrine', and promised me that the remaining ash statues would be dealt with. "At least the source of the statues in Ald'ruhn has been shut down," he said. "I admire your achievement, but we must remain vigilant against anyone else who comes to Ald'ruhn with ash statues."

I agreed. Clearly this Sixth House business was a lot more serious than just a few crazies ranting about their Lord Dagoth Ur and how he would drive out the _n'wah_. But what could they hope to gain by placing one of those statues in the hands of a Redoran noble?

I wondered if I should tell Athyn Sarethi what I had found, but decided he probably had enough to worry about right now without knowing that the Sixth House was after him as well. What I didn't get was that everyone who knew Athyn seemed to speak of him with respect, or even affection. For someone so seemingly popular, he sure had a lot of people out to get him.

While taking a break to rest and eat at the Ald Skar Inn, I wondered what I should do next. It really was time I did some more work for the Fighters' Guild and the Legion, especially if I wanted to practise my combat skills in preparation for Caius' next mission. Also, I probably ought to carry out some duties for the Mages' Guild as well – I was starting to feel a bit guilty about taking their free potions and equipment without actually doing any work for them. In the meantime, though, I went to ask the Temple priest Tuls Valen whether he had any tasks for me.

"Indeed I do," he said seriously. "I have just received news of another False Incarnate in Vvardenfell."

Cold fear gripped me. "A f-false Incarnate?" I squeaked, feeling the blood drain from my face. _Surely _they couldn't already have heard about my dealings with the Ashlanders?

"Elvil Vidron in Suran claims to be the Nerevarine and makes prophecies of doom," he said. Oh. Phew!

"What should I do?" I asked, trying to hide my relief.

"Clearly he is a heretic. Convince him that he is mistaken or, if all else fails, prove it by killing him. If he is the true Nerevarine, he is protected by prophecy and cannot die."

I just hoped to goodness that this Vidron guy _wasn't_ the true Nerevarine. If that was the case then I was pretty screwed, wasn't I?

There was no direct transportation link from Ald'ruhn to Suran, so I'd have to go via the Mages' Guild in Vivec. Before leaving I asked Edwinna Elbert, the Breton woman who headed the Ald'ruhn Guild, if she had any duties for me. "Yes, Associate, there is something you could do for me," she said. "I am looking for a copy of the rare Dwarven book _Chronicles of Nchuleft_, which is simply _essential_ to my research. Would you be willing to find a copy for me?"

"I guess so. I take it the local bookseller doesn't have a copy?"

She shook her head. "Here's 250 septims to cover your expenses. Time is of the essence."

On arriving in Vivec I went straight to Jobasha's bookstore in the Foreign Quarter, remembering that he sold rare books. Sure enough, he had a copy of _Chronicles of Nchuleft_ for exactly 250 septims, though I managed to haggle the price down slightly. After that I thought I would have to wait until evening and take the silt strider to Suran, but then a better idea occurred to me.

I took a gondola to the Temple canton and bought a cheap Rising Force potion from the priestess there, then donated it to Vivec's Shrine to Stop the Moon. As before, it cast a powerful Levitation spell on me, allowing me to fly through the air almost like a bird. I floated up above the cantons and then set out in the direction of Suran, which I could just see as a faint blur in the distance. Nothing hindered me except a few cliff racers, and I arrived in the town before it got dark, far earlier than I would have done if I'd taken the silt strider.

I vaguely remembered seeing Elvil Vidron the last time I came to Suran – at least if the barefoot, shirtless guy rambling on about 'the time of the Incarnate' was Vidron, which I assumed was the case. He didn't seem particularly surprised to see a young Imperial woman literally drop out of the sky above him (I guess if you've already convinced yourself that you're the Nerevarine, not much else is likely to faze you either). "Excuse me, Ser Vidron?" I said. "Could I speak to you in private for a moment, please? I'm not going to arrest you or anything," I assured him, as he looked at me suspiciously.

Elvil finally relented, and stopped his ramblings long enough for us to walk into a secluded alleyway. I just hoped I could think of something to say to convince him, because "Look, all this is a bit unlikely, don't you think?" probably wasn't going to do the trick.

"I'm told you claim to be the Nerevarine," I said to him.

He smiled. "You disbelieve? I know my destiny… and you will have a hard time proving otherwise. I have seen the message in the dream. Have you not also experienced the waking dream?"

"Waking dream?" I thought back to the strange dreams I'd been having recently, and suddenly a clever idea struck me. "I have, as it happens. But _you_ weren't the person I saw."

He frowned. "Who then, if not myself? The dreams are unyielding! Every day, every night! I must be the one... I must..."

"You can't be the Nerevarine." I leaned in towards him, lowering my voice almost to a whisper. "Because _I_ am."

"_You_?" He stared at me in disbelief. "But... how can that be?"

"Did Dagoth Ur appear to you in person?" I asked, flinging out my arms. "Did he address you as 'Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia'? 'Long forgotten, forged anew'?" To my surprise, I found I could remember exactly what 'Dagoth Ur' had said to me in the dream. "Did he invite you to join him beneath Red Mountain and purge the _n'wah_ from Morrowind? Well, that's what he said to me!"

By now Elvil was gazing at me with eyes the size of dinner-plates. "You... The vision..." he stammered. "Then it was you, not I! Forgive me, Nerevar, forgive! I meant only to prepare the way."

Sweet Mara, this guy was gullible. "That's quite all right," I told him. "Just stop telling people you're the Nerevarine, and I'll happily forgive you."

"Yes, Nerevar!" he exclaimed. "I see clearly now. I shall repent at the Temple and preach in your name."

"No, don't do that! I mean… I need more time to prepare the people of Morrowind for my coming," I added hastily. "The, ah… the minds of the ignorant masses are not yet ready to accept this news. When the time is right, I will reveal myself," I continued, improvising wildly. "But in the meantime, you must tell _no one_ about our meeting. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Nerevar," he said meekly. "I will seek penance for my sins, and no longer claim to be the Incarnate."

Whew, that was close. "I'm glad to hear it," I told him, resisting the urge to mop my brow, and then a sudden thought occurred to me. "Do you happen to own an ash statue, by any chance?"

His eyes grew even wider. "How did you know?"

"Just a hunch. Er, I think you should get rid of that statue," I said. "I… hear the paint they use to coat it is poisonous. If I were you, I'd take it along to the Temple and hand it in to one of the priests."

He looked doubtful. "Well… if you think it is best, Nerevar."

"Good! Well, it's been wonderful meeting you, Elvil," I said, forcing a smile. I could only hope he'd keep his word about not telling anyone my story; otherwise I was going to be in deep trouble.


	18. Chapter 18: The Gods Must Be Crazy

**Chapter 18: The Gods Must Be Crazy**

Unfortunately I overslept the next morning and missed the silt strider. As the Levitation spell was still active, I decided I might as well use it to travel back to Balmora, rather than waiting all day for the evening strider. I was still nervous about how long it would last, though, so I restricted myself to hovering just above the ground.

Soon after leaving the town, I got my first sight of one of Vvardenfell's less pleasant features: the slave plantations. I'd seen these from above while flying to Suran, but I'd been too high up to make out any detail. Now, as I drew closer, I could see dozens of Khajiit and Argonians working amongst the rows of ash yams and corkbulb plants, wearing only thin pants to protect them from the drizzling rain. I suppose it could have been worse – I remembered reading that slaves on the plantations of southern Morrowind were kept in cages and forced to go naked, like animals.

Most of the slaves didn't even look up at me as I passed by within feet of them – I guessed they'd learned that this would earn them a beating, or worse. For this reason I was a little surprised when a male Argonian sidled up to me and laid a hand on my arm.

"Excuse me, mistress," he hissed. "Can you help me... please? I fear I am lost without your help. Please, can you aid a poor Argonian?"

I paused, looking around nervously. The plantation's Dunmer overseer was standing some way away, looking in the other direction, and didn't seem to have noticed anything. "What do you want me to do? I don't have a key."

"Oh, kind and great one, recently escaped from the Dren Plantation am I." He indicated a large manor that was just visible through the fog in the distance. "Very cruel they were to me there. I have heard there is a place near here that will help those such as me, oh great and kind one – a kindly Redguard who helps us is what I've heard. Please, great friend, will you not help me?"

Again I hesitated. There was something a bit off about this guy, and not just because he appeared strong and healthy while the other slaves looked thin and under-fed. The other Argonian slaves I'd helped had been grateful, as you'd expect, but I'd never met one quite _this_ sycophantic – all this 'great and kind one' stuff seemed way over the top. I smelled a rat.

On the other hand… if he was telling the truth, I'd hate to abandon him here to his inevitable fate. And if not… maybe it'd be best if I _was_ there when he finally found this 'kindly Redguard'.

"Okay," I said warily. "I don't know where this place is, but I'll try and help you find it."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," he whispered. "You are too kind to Tul – not like the guards at the Dren Plantation, and cruel, cruel Orvas Dren, the powerful master there. And the evil brothers Ienith, so cruel, so cruel. Thank you for helping deliver me from them."

Okay, there was _definitely_ something up here. This Tul sounded more like someone play-acting a slave than an actual slave. "Have you seen the Twin Lamps?" I asked him, suddenly remembering what the other slaves had said to me.

"The… Twin Lamps?" For a moment he looked slightly panicked. "They... uh... brighten the way, oh most kind, wonderful and helpful friend. Your eyes are like twin lamps of hope, my gracious saviour! Yes, that is it!" Hmm.

We headed north-west up the path, checking behind us now and again to ensure we weren't being followed. I was pretty nervous, not only of what might happen when we found the Redguard, but also that someone might see us and realise what was going on. I hated the thought of possibly having to kill them when I was the one breaking the law.

At long last we spotted a small farm in the distance, some way off the path. The only person visible was a Redguard man hoeing a small patch of land. "Looks like we've found your Redguard," I said to Tul.

He nodded, but didn't say anything until we were approaching the man, when he suddenly grabbed my arm. "Here our journey ends, Cyrodiil," he said, his expression now far less pleasant. "For bringing me to this place, I thank you. It has been a thorn in the side of the Camonna Tong for too long, too long. Be on your way, outlander, or with this Redguard, you will die."

So Tul was a Camonna Tong agent as well as a bounty-hunter? Well, at least I needn't feel too guilty about killing him. "Stand back," I told him, drawing my sword. "I'm _not_ going to stand here and let you kill this man."

"As you wish. The hand of the Camonna Tong will speed you to your final rest."

Before I could get close enough to hit him, he leapt backwards and blasted me with a spell. I'm not sure what kind it was, but gods, it _hurt_. Luckily, though Tul seemed to be an excellent spellcaster, he was pretty weak in combat. The Redguard couldn't be much help as he was unarmed, and had the sense to stay out of the way.

"Sorry about that," I told him, when Tul was dead. "I _knew_ there was something fishy about that guy."

He shook his head. "It is not uncommon for them to come looking here. I thank you for your help, and for your intentions. Here, take this as a small token of my gratitude."

I thanked him for his gift, a ring with a Shield spell on it, and retreated to lick my wounds. I would never understand how an Argonian like Tul could betray his own people like that. I liked money as much as anyone else, but no amount on Nirn would persuade me to help someone who enslaved Imperials… or any other race, for that matter. But especially Imperials.

The abolitionist – whose name was Sterdecan – offered to let me rest in his hut, but once I was healed I was keen to set off for Balmora as soon as possible. I was glad to have been able to help Sterdecan, but the damage was done. I'd never be able to enjoy the beauty of the Ascadian Isles again without thinking of those slave plantations.

After eating my midday meal in Balmora, I returned to Ald'ruhn, where I delivered Edwinna Elbert's book to her and told the Temple priests that I'd successfully dealt with the False Incarnate. Tuls Valen thanked me for my help and promoted me to the rank of 'Acolyte' – a title I found a little unnerving. Perhaps I ought to stop doing duties for them before I ended up as Grand Inquisitor or something.

Having sorted everything out, I went to talk with the Fighters' Guild steward Percius Mercius, but he didn't have any jobs for someone of my rank. He suggested I try the Guildhalls in Vivec or Sadrith Mora, the Telvanni capital on the east coast, and reminded me that I could ask him if I had doubts about any of the jobs I was given.

I would actually have loved to see more of those weird Telvanni mushroom towers, but I decided it would be easier to go to Vivec. It was near to Ebonheart as well, so I could ask for Imperial Legion orders while I was at it. I took the Guild Guide to Vivec and located the Fighter's Guild, which was also on the top level of the Foreign Quarter canton. The ranking Guild steward was an Orc named Lorbumol gro-Aglakh; he wasn't particularly friendly, but he did agree to give me duties.

"Nar gro-Shagramph said he'd deliver a ring to Ranes Ienith, but he hasn't delivered," he said, after making a big show of trying to come up with 'suitable' missions. "Go find him in the Hlaalu Canton Plaza and bring the Juicedaw Feather Ring to me."

I really did feel I was a bit beyond these entry-level jobs by now, but I knew that saying this wouldn't get me anywhere. In fact, this turned out to be the easiest job I'd done for the Guild so far – when I went to the Hlaalu canton and found Nar, he immediately handed over the ring without protest. So much for practising my combat skills – I seemed to be doing more fighting outside of the Guild missions than in them.

Lorbumol's next order was pretty blunt. "There's an Argonian that can't keep its mouth shut. Go shut Tongue-Toad's mouth."

I frowned. I didn't like being sent to kill people without being given a reason, and his use of the word 'it' didn't escape me. "Er… what has he done, exactly?"

"I told you," he growled. "It can't keep its mouth shut."

Hmph. I decided to ask Percius about this one.

In the meantime, I took a trip to the Hawkmoth Legion Garrison in Ebonheart to ask for Legion jobs. As before, I made the journey by buying a Rising Force potion at the Temple canton and donating it to Vivec's shrine, then using the Levitation spell to fly over the water. The head of the Legion at Hawkmoth was a Nord Knight known as Frald the White – due to his long mane of white-blond hair, I assumed – and his jovial attitude made a pleasant contrast to Lorbumol's surliness.

"Ah, a Cyrodiil!" he exclaimed, when I told him my name and rank. "That's good. I have the perfect job for you."

"Yes, sir?"

"The Buoyant Armigers claim we have no courtesy," he said.

And this was a problem _because_…? "I… don't quite understand, sir."

He shook his head impatiently. "Salyn Sarethi, a Buoyant Armiger at the Tower of Dusk in Ghostgate, claims we have no courtesy. Go best him in a duel of wit and poetry."

A duel of _wit_ and _poetry_? He had to be kidding me. "Er… sir?" I said, deciding that honesty was the best policy here. "I'm not entirely sure I'm the best person for this."

"Rubbish!" he said briskly. "Imperial, aren't you? This should be right up your alley."

I wasn't sure how to reply. It's true that wit and wordplay are highly valued in Imperial culture, but even I could never have fooled myself that I was a smooth talker. Honestly, it's almost as annoying when people assume we're all silver-tongued charmers as when they think we're all corrupt swindlers.

"Come on, Champion!" Frald boomed, seeing my hesitation. "You're not afraid of some big-mouth Buoyant Armiger, are you?"

"No, sir! It's just that I don't know much about poetry, sir!"

He sighed. "Then you might want to find the Red Book of Riddles first. Try Codus Callonus at the bookstore in Ald'ruhn."

Reluctantly I wrote down the details – could this Salyn Sarethi be related to Athyn and his family, I wondered? – and returned to the Foreign Quarter to teleport back to Ald'ruhn. I obtained a copy of the riddle-book from the bookseller and went to the Fighters' Guild for my evening meal, where I spoke to Percius about my latest mission. "What is Tongue-Toad's crime?" he said, frowning. "I don't know that it's right to kill him. Maybe you could convince him to leave instead?"

It was late in the evening when I found Tongue-Toad, alone, in the back room of the Rat in the Pot. He was well-dressed and well-spoken, obviously a gentleman, and I wondered what he was doing in a place like that. "What?" he stammered, when I explained what I was there for. "The Fighters Guild sent you to kill me? Why would they want me dead?"

"I don't know," I told him, hating myself for having to do this. "I don't want to kill you, but if I don't my boss will probably send someone else. Would you be willing to leave Vvardenfell if I let you go?"

He nodded gratefully. "Yes. Thank you, Ada – I will leave soon. May Stendarr watch over you."

"Will you be okay?" I asked hesitantly, remembering the quarantine.

He shrugged. "Don't worry about me, soft-skin. Report back to the Fighters Guild. If I have to, I'll just _swim_ to the mainland."

I still felt guilty as I left the tavern. I was glad that I'd been able to find a non-violent solution, but even so, I found it deeply worrying that I was being sent on missions like this. I wished Percius would tell me a little more about what was going on in the Guild.

I was too tired to look at the riddle-book that night, so it had to wait until the next morning. While eating breakfast, I opened the book and read the first entry:

_**The question:**_

_It has a tail, a side and a head  
I call it what I call a snake  
It has no body and it is dead_

_**The answer:**_

_It must be a drake._

Worst. Riddle. Ever. I turned over the page.

_**The question:**_

_Poets know the hearts of Men and Mer  
__But beasts can't know my heart, you see  
This book was written by a bear_

_**The answer:**_

_It is not a book of poetry._

Okay, I take it back: I hadn't thought it possible, but that riddle was even worse than the first one. Somehow I doubted that Salyn Sarethi would be impressed by any of these, but I memorised them all even so. That done, I set out to levitate over to Ghostgate, thankful that there wasn't an ashstorm or Blight storm for once.

I found Salyn in the tower's underground barracks, wearing a full suit of glass armour. I found it hard to tell his age, but he was pleasant-looking, and quite handsome (after a month and a half spent among the Dunmer, I was getting so used to their strange skin and eye colour that it didn't really bother me any more). He didn't seem particularly pleased to see me, though.

"Yes, I said that the Legion has no courtesy, wit, poetry, or honour," he said curtly. "I will concede that you have wit and poetry if you can win a contest of riddles."

I was already struggling to keep my patience. What did it bloody _matter_ whether we had wit and poetry or not? We were supposed to be soldiers, not a troupe of wandering entertainers! But pointing this out would hardly have earned me any courtesy-points, so I let it go.

"I will ask of you a riddle and you must give the answer as a rhyme," Salyn continued. "Are you ready?"

"I suppose so."

As it turned out, I was in luck. It seemed that Mr. Courtesy had been making use of a certain Red Book himself when planning the riddle-contest. When I realised that the first riddle he asked me was the one on the first page of the book, it was all I could do not to burst out laughing.

"It must be a drake," I responded when he had finished. "Is it my turn now?" I repeated the second riddle from the book.

"Then it's not a book of poetry," he responded, correctly.

We looked at each other. "Best of three?" I suggested.

Salyn nodded, and recited yet another riddle I recognised from the book:

"_I gave you a sock, not unlike a box_

_With hammers and nails all around it_

_Two lids open when it knocks…_"

"It must have been a great hit," I answered, trying not to wince. Yup, unbelievable as it seemed, the authors of the Red Book had somehow come up with a riddle _even more_ terrible than the first two.

Salyn looked astonished, and rather annoyed, that I'd managed to beat him. "Well. You have proven to me that you have wit and poetry," he said gruffly. "Perhaps the Legion has courtesy after all."

I really didn't see what answering a bunch of stupid riddles had to do with being courteous, but I wasn't about to argue with him. "Glad to hear you say so," I said. "By the way, would you happen to be related to someone called Athyn Sarethi?"

"My uncle," he said, looking surprised. "You know him?"

"He's my sponsor in House Redoran," I said. "Good day to you." The expression on his face was absolutely priceless.

I cast an Almsivi Intervention spell to get back to Ald'ruhn, where I went to Sarethi Manor to see Athyn and ask for duties. The more I could do to convince him that I was a dutiful Redoran, the easier it would be to ask for his help later. Or so I hoped, anyway.

"Ondres Nerano, a Hlaalu noble who lives in Balmora, has slandered our Archmaster Bolvyn Venim," he told me. "I need someone to go there and stop his slanders."

I was surprised he was so concerned about Venim being slandered, given the amount of bad blood between them. "What sort of slanders?" I asked. Athyn hesitated, clearly unwilling to repeat what he'd heard. "_Serjo_, I can't accuse him of slander if I don't even know what he's meant to have said. What if he calls my bluff and denies it?"

Sarethi sighed. "Nerano claims that Venim is guilty of certain… indiscretions… with the wife of another Councillor. While I do not approve of all the Archmaster does, as a Councilman of House Redoran I cannot let this accusation stand."

"I see." I didn't really see, to be honest. If someone had kidnapped my son and sent assassins to kill me, and I heard a rumour that he was sleeping with someone else's wife, I'd be yelling it from the roof of the giant crab shell. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"You must track him down, and demand that he withdraw his slander," he told me. "If he refuses, challenge him to a duel, but do not shame House Redoran by murdering him."

I blinked. "A _duel_? Are you serious?"

"Quite serious," he said gravely. "Duelling is permitted by Imperial law, surely?"

I didn't really know how to answer. Sure, duelling is technically legal under Imperial law, but the truth was that I'd never heard of it actually happening during my lifetime. If someone slanders you in Cyrodiil, you take them to the courts (or, if you can't afford that, go round to their house with a few mates and beat the tar out of them). I wasn't even sure of the etiquette for challenging someone to a duel – was I supposed to slap him in the face with a glove or something?

"Well, I'll do my best," I said uncertainly. I really, really hoped that Ondres Nerano wouldn't force me to fight him. I'd killed enough people recently without adding a totally harmless Hlaalu noble to the list.

I took the Guild Guide to Balmora and asked for directions to the home of Nerano, who turned out to live in one of the manors in the High Town. A servant showed me into the house, and before long Ondres himself appeared to greet me. He was young and rather good-looking – and, to my surprise, quite friendly.

"Why, a visitor!" he exclaimed. "And an outlander, too! What brings you to Nerano Manor?"

My heart sank. Why couldn't he have been the obnoxious, high-handed type? "This isn't a social call, I'm afraid," I said. "I'm a member of House Redoran. One of the Councillors has accused you of slandering our Archmaster."

His expression hardened. "Slander? I told the truth about Bolvyn Venim!"

"Do you have any proof?" I asked.

"Proof?"

"Yes, proof! You know, the thing you ought to have before you accuse people of adultery?" I took a step towards him. "Either show me some proof, or take back what you said about Bolvyn Venim."

Nerano shook his head, disgust written across his face. "I guess you Redorans are too dumb to know what the truth is. If you want a duel over this, you got one!"

"Fine." I heaved a sigh. "Let's take this outside, shall we? I don't want to be accused of murdering you."

He snorted, but followed me outside into the main square. It was early evening and there were still quite a few people around. "Ondres Nerano, I hereby challenge you to a duel of honour," I said loudly, feeling like a character from a badly-written melodrama. "If you lose, you must promise to withdraw your slanders against the Archmaster of House Redoran."

"As you wish," he said, grinding his teeth. I drew my sword, at exactly the same time as he put up his fists.

I looked at him in disbelief. "Don't you _have_ a sword?"

"Not on me, no."

"Well, I'm not getting into a fist-fight with you!" I said indignantly. "This is supposed to be a duel, not a street brawl!"

By now a small crowd of people had gathered to see what was going on. After some muttered discussions and a lot of coughing, one of them produced a sword and handed it to Nerano, and we began the duel.

I'd learned from long experience that just because someone is obviously rich and privileged, it doesn't mean they're necessarily a pampered weakling who can't handle a weapon to save their lives. As it was, though, Ondres turned out to be… a pampered weakling who couldn't handle a weapon to save his life. After a minute or so of holding back, easily blocking his clumsy thrusts, I got tired of playing around with him and dealt him a heavy blow. A few more of these were sufficient to knock his sword from his hand and send him sprawling to the ground.

He raised a hand in surrender as I walked up to him. "Very well. I take back what I said about Venim," he said, and to my surprise, I saw a humorous glint in his eye. "You fight well… for a Redoran."

I knew I ought to have taken offence, but I couldn't help grinning. "You're smart," I said to him, helping him to his feet. "For a Hlaalu. Buy you a drink?"

He hesitated, and then suddenly nodded. "Why not? But I'll buy the drinks, as you won the fight."

We went to the Eight Plates, where Ondres bought me a drink – several, in fact – and introduced me to his friends in House Hlaalu, all young nobles like himself. They all seemed friendly, but I noticed that one of them, Meril Hlaano, was looking at me _very_ strangely.

"They say someone hit the Camonna Tong at the Council Club," he said slowly. "Hard. And the guards _say_ they're very concerned, and they're following all leads... But somehow they don't seem very sincere."

He leaned forward. "And Larrius Varro? Champion at Fort Moonmoth? He's been quoted as saying, 'I swore an oath to stop corruption, but it seems the gods have seen fit to fulfill my oath for me.' And you know what's funny? Someone said they saw _you_ talking to Larrius Varro several times recently…"

There was a long silence. Ondres Nerano's face had gone slightly pale. "That was _you_? You might have told me that before I agreed to fight a duel with you!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said coolly. "I'm in the Legion myself, so of course I've talked to Varro. Now, does anyone want another drink?"

All in all, it was a very enjoyable evening. By the time we stumbled out of the tavern in the early hours of the morning, Ondres and I were firm friends.

"When will I see you again?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I spend most of my time in Ald'ruhn these days."

"That's a pity," he said, and that wicked glint appeared in his eye again. "I may just have to insult your Archmaster a few more times."

"Don't even think about it," I warned him. "Next time I won't let you off so lightly." I suddenly thought of something. "Whose wife, by the way?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Whose wife has Bolvyn Venim _not_ been sleeping with?"

Ondres stared at me. "You don't _know_?" I shook my head. "It's Garisa Llethri's wife, Fathasa. And Garisa won't do anything about it, so they say. That is," he added hastily, "so they _would_ say, if he were sleeping with her. Which he isn't."

It was a pity really, I thought, as I made my way back to the Fighters' Guild to get some sleep. Most of the Hlaalu were perfectly decent people. It was just a shame their leaders were so obnoxious.

Athyn Sarethi was pleased to hear the result of the duel when I returned to him next morning (I left out the bit about the drinking session afterwards), and he promoted me to the rank of 'House Cousin', whatever that meant. I promised to come back later for more duties, but first I had business in Vivec.

The first thing I did on arrival was to go to Lorbumol gro-Aglakh at the Fighters' Guild and tell him that Tongue-Toad had been 'dealt with'. After that I set out for Ebonheart to report on my successful mission to Ghostgate. When I returned to the Temple canton yet again to use the Levitation shrine, the priestess there was beginning to get suspicious.

"You seem very devoted to Lord Vivec," she said, eyes narrowed. "That's the third time you've visited this shrine in three days."

"Absolutely," I said. "All praise be to Lord Vivec. Can I have the Rising Force potion now, please?"

Frald the White was delighted to hear about me beating Sarethi in the riddle contest. "What I wouldn't give to be at the Tower of Dusk right now," he chuckled, when I told him what had happened. "Ah, but since you are not just a simple warrior, perhaps you would appreciate this book?"

He gave me a book which seemed to be part of a series – _2920, The Last Year of the First Era_. Only problem was that it was the _fifth_ book in the series, which wasn't exactly helpful, given that I'd never read any of the others.

"Now, then," Frald continued briskly, before I had the chance to thank him. "I need someone to find the traitor Honthjolf."

"What has he done, sir?"

Frald's face darkened. "He was once a member of the Order of Ebonheart, but he turned his back on us. Now works as a guard in Aharnabi, a foul den of sorcerers and Daedra worshippers on the far southeast corner of Azura's coast. I need you to find him and kill him."

He marked the location of Aharnabi on my map. It was on one of the many small islands in the south-east – near to a shrine of Azura – and I worked out that the nearest major settlement was the city of Sadrith Mora, which just happened to have a Mages' Guild guide. If I left right now and flew out to Aharnabi, I could probably get there before sunset.

I teleported to Sadrith Mora – which meant 'mushroom forest', according to the Guild guide – and found myself in Wolverine Hall, a large and windowless Imperial stone castle. I never thought I'd find anywhere quite as maze-like and confusing than the interior of Vivec's cantons, but I must say that Wolverine Hall gave them a run for their money. I must have explored half the castle before finally realising that there was _no way out_ from the ground floor, and that the exit was just one floor down from the Guild room where I'd arrived to start with. Who designs these places?

I finally caught a glimpse of Sadrith Mora itself as I floated up above the castle, and I must say that it was a pretty amazing sight. I'd been impressed by the mushroom tower of Tel Branora – well, this place was an entire _city_ of those towers, with the great wizard's 'castle' in the centre surrounded by dozens of smaller dwellings and stores. I could have stayed looking at it for hours if I hadn't been in such a hurry.

It was a cool, misty evening, and I felt a sense of incredible peace and tranquillity steal over me as I flew southwards towards Aharnabi. Up here I didn't need to worry about bandits or wild animals or even cliff racers; below me was only endless ocean, dotted with rocks and small islands. For a while I could even manage to forget about the unpleasant business that lay ahead.

The sun was just beginning to set when I spotted the figure looming out of the mist: a huge stone statue of Azura, Daedra Lord (or rather, Lady) of Twilight. As in most of the pictures and statues I'd seen, she appeared as a beautiful young woman, with a crescent moon in one hand and an eight-pointed star in the other. I presumed this was the shrine Frald had described.

Usually I avoid anything Daedric like the Knahaten Plague, but I felt a sudden curiosity to see the inside of the shrine. A few of the Daedra seem to actively enjoy spreading death and destruction – such as Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon – but most of them will generally leave you alone as long as you don't do anything really stupid, like summoning them. I'd heard that Azura was fairly benign by Daedric standards (though admittedly, that's not saying much). It couldn't hurt just to take a quick look, surely?

Furtively I approached the stone door in the hill below the statue, and pushed it open. There was no one inside the shrine, but people clearly did visit now and again, because it was clean and lit by torches. Bowls of incense perfumed the inner chamber, which contained another, smaller statue of Azura. I walked closer, strangely drawn towards it – and then, something _really_ strange happened.

As I drew close enough to the statue to touch it, I felt a sudden change in the air. I can only describe it as a _presence_ – somehow, at that moment, I could feel that there was someone there in the room with me. I started to back away, frightened, and that was when the statue began to speak.

"_You have come here for a reason, though you may not know what it is._"

I leapt backwards as if I'd just been struck with a shock bolt. Not only because a statue had just spoken to me, but because I _recognised_ that voice – I'd have known it anywhere. It was the voice that had spoken to me in my dreams on that prison ship, the very night I arrived in Morrowind.

"I'm sorry!" I gabbled, falling to my knees before the statue. "I didn't mean to – I – " I clamped my mouth shut, finally realising that to tell a Daedra Lord I'd summoned her by accident would _not_ be a good idea.

"_Sheogorath and I have made a wager. He contends that solitude causes madness, while I maintain it allows for solace and meditation. To test this, I sent one of my priestesses to live alone on an island north of Dagon Fel. If she can live there for 100 years, continuing her life of prayer, my theory will be proven; if not, Sheogorath wins our wager._"

What?! Seriously, what? What the heck was she talking about? My head was spinning.

"_The time has almost passed,_" Azura continued,"_and she remains steadfast. But, Sheogorath has tried to sway the decision in his favour._"

"Um… sorry to hear that?" My voice came out as a breathy squeak.

She went on as if I hadn't spoken. "_Travel there, rid the island of his minions, and bring back proof of his meddling. Do not disturb the wise woman, though, as that would void our wager. Serve me, and I will reward you well._" And with that I felt the powerful presence vanish from the chamber, leaving me open-mouthed and trembling like a leaf.

I remained there on my knees for what must have been several minutes. Had I really just spoken with the Daedra Lord Azura? Had she just told me that she brought me here for the sake of a _bet_? She'd dragged me all the way to Morrowind, thousands of miles away from my own home, to help her win a sodding _bet_ with another of the Princes?

Honestly, I just couldn't _believe_ this. I know the Gods – and the Daedra especially – are notorious for playing games with the lives of mortals, but did they have to be _quite_ so blatant about it?

Well, if Azura wanted me to go to – Dagon Fel, was it? – then I'd better get going right this minute. When a Daedra Lord asks you to perform a task for them, you don't keep them waiting. Honthjolf and his 'den of sorcerers' would have to wait until later. I used a Divine Intervention scroll to take me back to the Wolverine Hall shrine, and touched down at the Sadrith Mora docks just in time to board the last ship going north.


	19. Chapter 19: I Am Not The Nerevarine

**Chapter 19: I Am Not The Nerevarine**

The journey to Dagon Fel took nearly three days, most of which I spent cooped up in a small, cramped cabin that smelled of ale and stale vomit (thank the Gods I don't get seasick). By the end of it I had all but convinced myself that I'd imagined the whole encounter in the shrine. After all, how likely was it that the Daedra Lord Azura had specifically chosen me, Ada Ventura, to serve her? Then again, it was no more unlikely than some of the other things that had happened to me since I arrived in Morrowind.

When we finally reached the island – up in the northernmost part of the country, in a region called Sheogorad – I found that the only settlement there was a tiny fishing village, populated mainly by Nords. I spent most the morning stocking up on provisions and making sure my weapons and armour were in good repair – I wasn't sure what kind of Daedra I might run into, and I wanted to be well prepared.

After that I set out for the small island to the north, where Azura's unfortunate priestess was undergoing her 100 years' enforced solitude. (Honestly, why anyone _ever_ worships these Daedric lunatics is beyond me.) It was raining, but luckily there were plenty of those big mushrooms to hide under.

When I reached the coast and found that only a narrow channel separated the two islands, I decided now would be a good time to try out my new Water Walking spell. I'd never bothered to learn that spell in Cyrodiil, what with it being so landlocked, so it took me quite a few tries to get it right. But when it worked, it was brilliant – I just ran across the surface of the water as if it had been solid ground.

If only the next part had been so easy. The minute I spotted the first couple of Daedra in the distance – a Hunger and some Flame Atronachs – I knew I was out of my depth. Concealed behind some rocks, I gave it some thought and decided to tackle the Atronachs first, as they would have a weakness to my enchanted frostsword. The Hungers could cast nasty Destruction spells, so they were best dealt with from a _long_ distance and good cover.

The Atronachs both went down in a single hit. I got a little singed, but not badly hurt. Just as I was congratulating myself on my superior combat skills, I heard an ominous rumbling sound behind me, and spun round to find myself looking right at – or rather, _up_ at – an enormous Ogrim.

With a cry of terror I ran for the nearest source of cover, a couple of tall rock pillars with a small gap between them, just as the Daedra's fist crashed down on the spot where I'd been standing a moment earlier. Luckily for me, Ogrims aren't that smart – it lumbered up to the rocks, growling angrily, but didn't think to go _round_ them. Trying to stay calm, I drew my sword and poked it through the gap in the rocks, thrusting it several times into the Ogrim's gigantic stomach. It was like jabbing a needle into an orange.

Just as I was about to cut and run, the sword's Frost magicka finally overcame the Ogrim, and it tumbled to the ground with a crash that must have been heard half a mile away. I sank to the ground, shaking, and took some time to rest and recover before taking on the other Daedra.

I could see the Hungers in the distance, wandering around near a small hut. As I took careful aim with my bow, I wondered how exactly they planned to drive Azura's priestess to madness. Presumably they couldn't actually approach her without voiding the wager, so what else could they do? Sit outside the hut all day whistling really annoying tunes?

Marksmanship has never been my strongest skill – I'm not a _bad_ shot, but not a particularly good one either, especially at this distance. My first arrow was caught by the wind and went wide of the mark. The second time I adjusted my aim a bit and managed to hit one of the Hungers, but unfortunately, the other one spotted me and came bounding towards me with an angry roar. I quickly ducked behind the rock I was using for cover, cast the Chameleon enchantment on my Amulet of Shadows, and drew my sword in readiness.

As the ugly, shrivelled-up creature paused only feet away from me, sniffing the air to try and catch my scent, I strode up to it, swung my sword with all my strength and brought the blade down heavily on its spindly neck. It's a good thing Daedra don't bleed, or it would have made quite a mess.

Glancing back towards the hut, I spotted one more Daedra standing guard by the door – a Golden Saint, one of the most powerful servants of Sheogorath. They appear as scantily-clad women with shining golden skin – a little like Altmer, only _much_ more dangerous. I'd only met a couple of them before, but 'saintly' is the last word I'd use to describe them.

I ran up towards the Saint, aware that I didn't have much time before the Chameleon enchantment wore off. She didn't see or hear me as I snuck up behind her, so I took the opportunity to stab her through the heart from behind, killing her almost instantly. Not very honourable, I know, but then I've never met a Daedra who even _tried_ to fight fair (they don't really 'die' in any case – killing them just sends them back to the waters of Oblivion for a while).

Bending over the Saint's corpse, I noticed a ring on her finger bearing the symbol of Sheogorath, the Madgod. I still couldn't believe he and Azura would go to such lengths just to win a stupid bet. Still, I guess that when you're a bored, immortal, quasi-omnipotent being with too much time on your hands, you have to find some way to amuse yourself.

I took the ring as proof to show to Azura, and made my way back to the village of Dagon Fel, where I rented a room at the End of the World inn. I spent a reasonably comfortable night there, and set out on my three-day return journey to Sadrith Mora the next morning.

Dusk was falling when I disembarked at the Sadrith Mora docks and walked up to the Gateway Inn, which stood at the edge of the city. It was a typical Telvanni mushroom building except for the fact that it was set into a hill, above a large round stone door that presumably led through to the city. As far as I could see, it was the only way through unless you were into rock-climbing.

Leading up to the mushroom building were two narrow sets of steps, carved out of roots, on either side of the doorway. I carefully made my way up one of the stairways and entered the inn, where I was met by a Dunmer official. "Excuse me, please," I said. "Could you open the gate for me? I need to get to Wolverine Hall."

"Do you have Hospitality Papers?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"According to the Collective Articles of the Council of the Great House Telvanni, out-house and outlander guests in Sadrith Mora may not travel in town or speak to or conduct business with citizens, tradesmen, or publicans unless they have Hospitality Papers," he said mechanically. "This is for the comfort and safety of our guests. As Prefect of Hospitality for Sadrith Mora, I can provide you with these papers for 25 gold."

I blinked. "Hang on. You're saying I have to purchase 'Hospitality Papers' just to travel through the city?"

"These are the laws of the Telvanni Council. Unless you are a member of the House, of course."

"But all I want is to get to Wolverine Hall!" I couldn't believe this. "You seriously expect people to pay 25 drakes just to _walk through_ your town?"

The prefect sighed, giving me the impression I wasn't the first visitor to react this way. "Rules are rules, outlander. Would you care to purchase these Hospitality Papers?"

I could have kicked up a fuss, but in all honesty, I was just too tired. All I really wanted right now was to take a proper bath and sleep in a proper bed for the first time in days. So I agreed to buy the papers – with a very bad grace, I must admit – and returned to Wolverine Hall, now convinced that everything I'd been told about the Telvanni was true. 'Hospitality', indeed…

The next morning, following a quick trip back to Vivec to renew my Levitation spell, I returned to the Shrine of Azura. This time I hoped I might be able to have a proper conversation with her, perhaps even get a few answers. I walked up to the statue and waited there for a few seconds, wondering if she would appear spontaneously as she had last time. When nothing happened, I hesitantly took out Sheogorath's ring and placed it on the base of the statue.

Immediately I felt Azura's presence fill the shrine. "_Well done, mortal,_" said that strange, ethereal voice. "_You have preserved the integrity of my wager with Sheogorath. Now it will end as fated, and not due to the meddling of the Daedra Prince. Take this, and use it wisely._"

"Azura, wait! Lady Azura – " But it was no use. The presence was gone, and next to the ring lay a small but beautiful replica of Azura's eight-pointed star.

I'd heard of Azura's Star, of course; it was actually a powerful soulgem. I knew that it was technically a great favour to have it granted to me, something many people would literally kill for, but the problem was that I never _used_ Soultrap spells. Other than using it as a way to impress people – "Look, I was granted this by _Azura herself_!" –there wasn't an awful lot I could do with it. What was more, I couldn't even sell it for fear of upsetting Her Ladyship.

Still, I didn't want to risk offending Azura by turning down her gift. So I picked up the ring and the star and tucked them both carefully away in my backpack, before leaving to search for the entrance to Aharnabi.

There's not really much to say about my encounter with Honthjolf, the traitorous Nord who'd deserted the Legion. I didn't like the idea of having to kill a fellow Legionnaire, even if he did worship Daedra – and really, how could I condemn that after what I'd just done myself? But I'd long since resigned myself to the fact that being a fighter could be a nasty job at times, so I did what I had to. Honthjolf didn't give me a choice in any case; the minute he realised I was a Legionnaire, he attacked me.

Afterwards I used my last Divine Intervention scroll to return to Wolverine Hall, then travelled back to Vivec by Guild Guide. After cleaning myself up and changing clothes, my first priority was to safely store away my new treasures in a bank. I didn't want to announce to the entire world that I was carrying around a priceless Daedric artifact, so when I got to the bank, I asked if I could speak to the manager. The clerk I spoke to was reluctant at first, but quickly changed her tune when I explained that I had some valuable items to deposit.

The bank manager's reaction to me pulling Azura's Star out of my grotty backpack was surprisingly calm; perhaps it wasn't the first time a humble-looking adventurer had turned up with rare and valuable artifacts. Vvardenfell seemed to be practically crawling with them, after all. He looked it over carefully, and though he didn't say anything, I could tell he was examining it to check that it wasn't a fake. When he'd satisfied himself that the star was genuine, I produced Sheogorath's ring and asked if he could tell me how much it was worth.

Again he examined the ring carefully before replying. "Yes, this is Sheogorath's symbol," he said at last. "And the ring itself is clearly Daedric workmanship. This could be quite valuable."

"I'm not very well up on the technical terms," I said. "Exactly how valuable is 'quite valuable'?"

"Well, I'm not a jeweller – you would have to get it valued professionally. But at a rough guess, I would say it could be worth as much as thirty thousand drakes."

A Paralysis spell couldn't have rooted me to the spot more effectively. THIRTY THOUSAND drakes? Maybe he'd made a mistake and had actually meant to say 'thirty'?

"Forgive me," I said weakly. "Did you just say that this ring could be worth _thirty thousand_ septims?"

"That would be my estimate, yes. Perhaps a few thousand more, or less."

My knees felt weak all of a sudden. _Thirty thousand_ septims. I could buy passage to Cyrodiil twenty times over with that kind of money – heck, I could buy my own _ship_ with that amount. I was finding it hard to believe this wasn't all just a cruel joke.

"I'm not sure there is anyone in Vvardenfell who trades in this kind of item," the manager continued. "You may have to travel to the mainland." Ah. There's always a catch, isn't there?

Still, I wouldn't let myself be downcast. "But I could use it as security for a loan or something, right?"

"Of course."

I was still finding this hard to take in. "Wonderful," I said. "Thank you so much. I'll leave it in your vaults for the moment, then."

As I left the bank, I felt as if I were walking on air. My troubles were over. I could pay off the rest of my 'loan' from House Hlaalu – not that there was much of it left anyway – and I could go back to Cyrodiil. Home.

All at once I felt my eyes fill with tears. I hadn't heard anything more about riots in the Imperial City, so I'd assumed that things had calmed down for the moment – but even so, the relief of knowing that I could go back if I wanted was tremendous. With so many other things to think about, I hadn't realised how much it had been weighing on my mind.

I was in such a good mood that I even felt up to going back to the Fighters Guild and speaking to Lorbumol gro-Aglakh. I didn't really want to take any more jobs from him after the last one, but on the other hand, I was keen to get back my old rank of Defender before returning home. At least that way I might stand _some_ chance of being accepted back into the Cyrodiil guild. So I accepted a bounty contract on a Khajiit named Dro'Sakhar, whom he described as an outlaw.

Rather than go back to Ald'ruhn yet again to talk to Percius, I confirmed with the local Ordinators that there was a bounty on Dro'Sakhar's head, and then went to search for his hideout in the St. Olms canton. I finally found him in a poky one-room house on the lowest level of the canton. No one had told me his bounty was for, but the first thing I noticed on entering the house was a wooden training dummy with several daggers stuck into it. Not a nice person, clearly.

Instead of killing Dro'Sakhar, I simply used my Star of the West power to knock him out before handing him over to the guards. I returned to Lorbumol for my coveted promotion to Defender, and a reward of five hundred septims – enough to pay off the remainder of my debt to House Hlaalu, and then some.

I celebrated my newfound wealth by buying myself some _really_ nice clothes – well, you never know when you might get invited to a party – and a beautiful enchanted robe called a 'Frostmirror Robe', which offered protection against frost magic. After that I went to bed, exhausted after such a tiring day. I had some rather strange dreams that night, one involving Daedra, and another where I was being chased through long, narrow passageways by an unknown enemy.

Even this couldn't dent my good mood, however. I began the next day by travelling to the Hawkmoth Legion garrison in Ebonheart, taking the boat for once (I didn't want to push my luck) and reporting back to Frald the White on Honthjolf's death.

"It is always sad when someone betrays the Legions," he said sombrely, "but we cannot allow such traitors to live. Well done, Champion." He paused. "In fact, I am proud to give you the rank of Knight Errant… " He was joking, surely? "…and this cuirass and greaves."

I blinked. Frald was opening up a heavy chest that stood behind him in a corner, and taking out several pieces of beautiful golden Templar armour – the kind only worn by the higher ranks of the Legion. Was he serious? He was making me a Knight?

"Lost your tongue, Knight?" he asked, seeing my stupefied expression.

"N-_no_, sir! Thank you, sir!" I tried to sound somewhat like a professional soldier, rather than a little girl who'd just been offered that marvellous doll in the shop window.

Frald handed the cuirass and greaves to me and turned away to speak to a messenger who'd just entered, leaving me half-convinced that this was all a wonderful dream, and I'd wake up any moment. Could Azura be behind this sudden extraordinary run of good luck? If so, I would definitely have to rethink my attitude towards Daedra worship.

I spent some time considering whether I ought to wear the Templar armour on my travels. It was really ceremonial armour, meant for officers who didn't do so much actual fighting – on the other hand, it still offered excellent protection, as good as if not better than the normal Imperial armour. In the end, my love of shiny things won out and I decided to keep it. Since there was no way I could carry around _two_ sets of heavy armour, I handed in the old armour to the fort's smith to be repaired and sold on.

Wearing my new armour, I returned to the Vivec Mages' Guild and travelled to Balmora to see Caius Cosades. For a few hilarious seconds I considered demanding that he call me 'Lady Ada' from now on, but I was feeling too generous. I wanted to buy the whole world a drink, even Caius. For once, even the dirty conditions and stink of skooma in his house didn't bother me too much.

"Greetings, _muthsera_," I said, giving him my best 'look, I'm picking up the lingo' smile. After all, I wasn't doing too badly: I'd learned the words for 'sir/madam', 'friend', 'bloody foreigner', 'mushroom forest', and 'fire-river'. (And that's all you need really, isn't it?)

Caius returned the smile. "Ah, I see you're learning some Dunmeris. Does this mean you've decided to stay on?"

"No."

"Why am I not surprised by this? Anyway, I take it you're here for orders." I nodded. "Okay, here's your mission: Fort Buckmoth sent a patrol to Gnaar Mok, hunting smugglers with Sixth House connections. They found a Sixth House base, a shrine, and a priest named Dagoth Gares. Speak to Champion Raesa Pullia at Fort Buckmoth, and she'll tell you what happened. Your orders are to find that base, kill Dagoth Gares, and bring me a full report."

"Righty-ho. Where's Fort Buckmoth?"

"Just south of Ald'ruhn. Be careful though, Ada," he added. "Don't take any chances. I think this will be a tough one."

While walking through Ald'ruhn later in the day, I noticed something new: people were starting to recognise me. They weren't running up for autographs or anything, but they would nod to me as I passed and greet me with "three blessings, _sera_," or occasionally even by name. I wondered if they'd got to hear of how I handled the case of Varvur Sarethi and the ash statues. Regardless, it was actually quite a nice feeling.

It didn't stop there: when I reached Fort Buckmoth and spoke to Raesa Pullia, I was astonished by how polite and deferential she seemed. It took a minute or two for me to realise that I actually outranked her. What was more, I was making it pretty obvious, marching around decked out in fancy Templar armour. Maybe I'd better be more careful how I acted around the locals, now that I was technically a high-ranking Legion commander.

She told me that only one trooper had returned alive from the assault on the Sixth House base. "He died soon after, horribly disfigured with corprus disease, and out of his wits," she said. "His flesh was all swollen and covered with growths, and his bones twisted and lost their shape." I tried not to shudder. "We wouldn't have recognised him if it hadn't been for his clothing and armour. The fort chaplain tried spells and potions, but he couldn't cure the disease."

"What happened to him at the base?"

"In his ravings, he spoke of a cavern on the coast Gnaar Mok – he called it 'Ilunibi'. They fought with cultists and disfigured man-beasts – corprus monsters, I think – then they ran into a half-man creature named Dagoth Gares. This Dagoth Gares slew the rest of the patrol, but spared the one trooper. He told the trooper he was being spared, so he might tell others that 'The Sleeper Awakes', and 'The Sixth House has Risen', and 'Dagoth Ur is Lord, and I am his Priest'."

Yes, that all sounded wearisomely familiar. "Did he give you any idea of where to find Ilunibi?" I asked.

"It's not on our maps, ma'am, and no one here has heard of it. Maybe the locals in Gnaar Mok can tell you where to find it?"

I wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the thought of having to take on this Dagoth Gares alone where an entire patrol had failed, but something told me I wasn't likely to get any volunteers after what had happened to the last lot. Guess I'd just have to be very careful if I ran into any corprus monsters.

Based on how long it had taken me to walk to Drulene Falen's farm those two times, I guessed that it would take most of the day to reach the coast. Oh, my kingdom for a horse… I thought of setting off the next day, but decided I needed a rest after the excitement of the past week. This turned out to be a good thing, as another Blight storm struck in the early morning and raged until nightfall.

On the following day I set out for Gnaar Mok, another of those dirt-poor fishing villages that dotted the Bitter Coast. It was on a small island that could only be reached by crossing a series of narrow wooden bridges, more accurately described as 'planks'. The only building there that wasn't basically a shack was a large Hlaalu-style manor surrounded by high walls.

There weren't many people about, but I came across a Wood Elf sitting on the steps of a shack. "Welcome to Gnaar Mok, outlander," he said gloomily. "It's small, but dumpy. How may I help you?"

When I told him that I needed to find Ilunibi, he frowned. "That's what they call the old sea cave up on the north end of the island, right on Khartag Point. Don't be poking your nose in there – someone might object."

I suspected he was right, but unfortunately I didn't have much choice about whether to 'poke my nose in'. I was far too tired to do anything about it that night, however. "I don't suppose there's anywhere to stay here?" I asked, without much hope.

"If you're House Hlaalu, you can get beds and services at Arenim Manor," he said. "Otherwise… not really."

Sighing, I went to look for a suitable tree to shelter under.

The next morning, just before dawn, I set out find the cavern of Ilunibi – not difficult, as it was only a short way from where I'd set up camp. The ordinary-looking wooden gate at the entrance turned out to conceal a vast cavern network, tastefully decorated throughout with red candles and rotting corpses. A good deal of it seemed to be flooded, including the entrance, where I had to crawl practically _through_ a waterfall to reach the floor of the cave. Apparently my luck was back to normal again.

There seemed to be relatively few Sixth House guards in the cave, perhaps because the previous Imperial assault had killed off most of them. Of the enemies I did face, most of them were undead – skeletons and bonelords, nothing too tough. But one encounter was particularly disturbing.

Peering cautiously round a corner in a dimly-lit passageway, I spotted a human-like figure not far off. Its back was turned to me, so I carefully drew my bow and fired a shot. The figure let out a roar of pain and wheeled round, striding towards me with a slow but entirely steady gait.

I fired another arrow, but the thing didn't even slow down. Even as I backed round the corner to get in more shots, it kept coming, arrows sticking out of it like needles in a pincushion. My next shot hit it right in the chest, but it still lumbered on towards me, relentless. The word that came to mind was _zombie_.

Just as I was thinking I'd have to ditch my bow and face it up close, I saw the thing stagger and collapse to the ground just a few yards away from me. As I drew closer, I realised to my horror that it _was_ human – dreadfully, hideously deformed, but human. Its body was grotesquely swollen, covered with sores and strange markings, and its face appeared to be literally rotting away. Blessed Arkay, was this one of the 'corprus monsters' Raesa Pullia had described to me?

My suspicions were confirmed when I bent over the corpse and saw a few frayed scraps of clothing hanging off its – his? – body. Shuddering, I backed away and edged past the body, staying as far away from it as possible. The idea that this thing had once been human made it seem far more disturbing than any of the other monsters I'd seen.

I crept onwards, hoping I wouldn't run into any more of those creatures. Finally, in the heart of the maze-like cavern network, I edged round a corner and spotted another strange creature – a humanoid figure with a sort of long trunk where its face ought to be, dressed in a priest's robe. It was standing on a raised platform in front of a set of six large bells. Could this be the 'Dagoth Gares' I'd been told about?

I ducked back round the corner and cast the Amulet of Shadows enchantment, but Gares must have already spotted me. Either that or he had some other way of sensing I was there.

"The Sixth House greets you, Lord Nerevar," he said pleasantly, as I approached with sword drawn. "Or 'Ada Ventura', as you call yourself. I am known as Dagoth Gares, priest of Ilunibi Shrine, and minister to Sixth House servants. My Lord, Dagoth Ur, has informed me of your coming – I wish that this time you had come to honour your Lord's friendship, not to betray it."

I walked right up to him. "Okay, mate, let's just get one thing clear: I'm _not_ Lord Nerevar, all right? And you're not going to persuade me to join your idiotic messiah cult by telling me I am, so you might as well give it up and tell me what the hell's going on here!"

He continued if he hadn't even heard me. "Lord Dagoth gives me these words to say to you, so you may give them thought. 'Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service.'"

"You're not listening, are you?" I said in exasperation. "I'm not your Lord Dagoth Ur's friend. And I can't have 'struck him down' or betrayed his friendship, because I've _never met him_!"

"My Lord Dagoth bids you come to Red Mountain," Gares continued, in that infuriatingly calm tone of voice. "For the friendship and honour that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. I am not your Lord Dagoth, yet I, too, would say to you... Do you come with weapons to strike me down? Or would you put away your weapon, and join me in friendship?"

Okay, now I was getting _really_ angry. "Join you in friendship? You kill my fellow soldiers, you send a bunch of crazed monsters to attack me, and now you expect me to _join you in friendship_?"

"Forgive the rude welcome," he said, "but until you have declared for us, we must treat you as our enemy. Lord Dagoth would far rather have you as a friend than as an enemy – but until you submit to him, Sixth House servants will treat you as an enemy, and try to destroy you. If you wish to be our friend, first you must go to Lord Dagoth in his citadel on Red Mountain, and make your submission."

Right. I'd had it up to _here_ with this guy. I drew a deep breath, and stepped forward.

"Tell your Lord Dagoth," I said, "that _this_ is my answer." And I plunged my blade deep into his chest.

To my surprise, Gares didn't make any attempt to fight back. He doubled over and fell to his knees, blood soaking through the front of his robe, and I saw a terrible smile spread across his deformed face.

"Even as my Master wills," he said hoarsely, "you shall come to him, in his flesh, and of his flesh."

As he sank to the ground, I heard him mutter some sort of incantation with his dying breath. Suddenly I began to feel very weird – not physically weak, exactly, but dull and confused and emotionally drained. Damn it, he must have cursed me.

I drank a few restoration potions and felt a lot better. Searching Dagoth Gares' body, I found a letter apparently from Dagoth Ur himself:

_Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia_

_My Lord, Friend, and Companion_

_Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. No houseman ever served you better, or more faithfully. Much that I did was at your command, at great cost to myself, and my honour._

_Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. It was a cruel blow, a bitter betrayal, to be felled by your hand._

_But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service. The Sixth House was not dead, but only sleeping. Now we wake from our long dream, coming forth to free Morrowind of foreign rulers and divine pretenders. When the land is swept clean of false friends and greedy thieves, the children of Veloth will build anew a garden of plenty in this blighted wasteland._

_Come to Red Mountain, old friend. For the fellowship and honour that once we shared, I would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. The path to Red Mountain is long, and filled with danger, but if you are worthy, you will find there wisdom, a firm friend, and all the power you need to set the world aright._

_As ever, your respectful servant and loyal friend,_

_Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur_

How very strange. Either this was some sort of bizarre psychological warfare, or… for some reason, Dagoth Ur genuinely did believe I was his old 'friend and companion' Nerevar. And that Nerevar had betrayed him somehow, if the letter was to be believed. But wait… wasn't _he_ the one who was supposed to have betrayed the Dunmer?

Oh well, this wasn't the time to worry about things like that. I shoved the letter into my pack, deciding to show it to Caius when I got back to him. No doubt he'd try to insist it proved I was the Nerevarine, but I wasn't buying it. And he was about to learn that I wasn't willing to play his silly game any longer – not now that I had the means to leave Morrowind.


	20. Chapter 20: Off To See The Wizard

A/N: Raised the rating to T for some _slightly_ bad language in this chapter. You can't really blame poor Ada, though...

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* * *

Chapter 20: Off To See The Wizard**

Before going back to Balmora, I searched the chamber for anything that might be of use. There were a couple of troughs containing some useful potions and scrolls, but the real find was the pair of heavy armoured gauntlets I found lying by the side of one of the troughs.

I noticed that the right glove had a Fortify Strength enchantment on it (I recognised it well, as it was from the Restoration school of magic). It was very heavy, much more so than my own steel gauntlets – but when I put it on, I suddenly felt as strong as an ox. I attempted to lift up the stone trough and found that I could easily tip it half way over. With the gauntlet off, I could barely shift the thing at all.

The left gauntlet, which had a Fortify Agility enchantment, made me feel like I could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Wow, what a find! I'd have to be careful wearing these, though – with that powerful strength enchantment, I could practically knock someone over just by tapping them on the shoulder.

Unfortunately, by the time I was ready to travel back to Balmora, I was starting to feel ill again. It looked like Dagoth Gares had struck me with some kind of disease, rather than just a temporary curse effect. Taking a Cure Common Disease potion didn't work, so I realised it was probably one of the Blight diseases I'd been warned about.

Well, I could deal with it later. For the moment I just wanted to report back to Caius, hand in my resignation, and be done with him and the Blades once and for all.

I tried to cast Almsivi Intervention, but I was finding it so hard to concentrate that I kept making mistakes. By the time I finally succeeded, after nearly a dozen failed attempts, I was snarling with frustration. I was vaguely aware that I ought to be happy – I was one step closer to freedom, after all – but instead I felt pissed-off, irritable and very much on edge. Caius had better not give me any crap this time, I thought.

As I walked through the streets of Balmora, I noticed that I was getting some rather strange looks from a few passers-by. "You got a problem?" I growled at one of them. He backed away hastily, but the encounter did nothing to improve my foul mood. When I reached Caius' place and he opened his door to me, I shoved right past him into the house without even a 'hello'.

"Dagoth Gares is dead," I said, before he had the chance to speak. "Here, I found this letter on him. But he's cursed me with some sort of disease, so – why are you looking at me like that?"

Caius opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. "Ada," he said very carefully, "I think you may have corprus disease."

"Corprus disease?" I said sharply. "I don't have corprus disease. What do you mean, I have corprus disease?"

"Give me your shield." I handed it to him, bewildered, and he turned it round so that I could see my face in the polished surface.

I stared the distorted reflection, trying to work out what was wrong with it, and suddenly my blood ran cold. It wasn't just the reflection that was distorted – right there, on my face and neck, were several distinct marks and faint signs of swellings. The same kind I'd seen on that hideous, shambling creature in the Ilunibi cavern.

"_I have corprus disease_!" I wailed.

Caius nodded grimly. "It's a rare disease that usually drives victims mad, and causes terrible, deformed growths on the body. I don't know of any cure, but – "

"OH DEAR GODS!!"

"Wait a second, Ada," he said. "I may have some good news in that department. I canvassed my informants for possible treatments, just in case you contracted the disease during your mission – "

My mouth fell open. "You… you did _what_? You _knew_ this was going to happen!"

"Well, not exactly, but I did suspect that perhaps – "

"You _fucking_ bastard!" I screeched. "You… you _s'wit_! You _n'wah_!" He burst out laughing, which wasn't quite the effect I'd intended. "You knew I'd catch corprus! In fact, I bet you _planned_ it all along!"

I grabbed a metal tankard from the table and hurled it at him. He ducked. I threw a fork and a wooden plate, which he also neatly dodged. I burst into tears.

"Look where you've got me!" I sobbed. "You and your stupid Neveragaine crap! Now I have corprus disease, and I'm going to turn into a disgusting zombie-creature and then die, and it's ALL! YOUR! FAULT!"

I continued to yell at him, calling him every name I could think of in several different languages, until finally I had to give up from sheer exhaustion. "Finished?" he asked. "Good. Now, do you want to get cured of this disease?"

I hiccupped a few times, trying unsuccessfully to wipe away the tears and snot from my face. "_Yes_!"

"Very well. As I was saying, I canvassed my informants for possible treatments. I learned from Fast Eddie that your best chance of getting cured is Divayth Fyr, an ancient Telvanni wizard who runs a Corprusarium for victims of corprus."

"A _Telvanni_? Are you crazy?"

"Take this Dwemer artifact," he said, handing me something that looked like a piece of alchemical equipment. "I've been told he collects them, and a gift may sweeten his disposition. Here's 1,000 drakes for expenses, and a couple of Levitation potions – I hear you'll need them in Telvanni towers. Go to Tel Fyr, and get that corprus disease cured."

I watched, still glowering, as he marked the tower of Tel Fyr on my map. "All right, Caius," I told him, my voice trembling with rage. "I'll go. But this is the _last_ time I ever do anything for you, you hear me? The LAST! TIME!"

I marched to the door and yanked it open, then turned back. "And PUT A SHIRT ON!" I roared, before slamming the door so hard that it practically flew off its hinges. The bang it made was so loud that it echoed down the entire street.

Then I ran. I ran through the grotty back-streets of eastern Balmora, over the bridge, up the main street with all the guilds and shops, and into the Mages' Guild. I hurtled down the steps two at a time into the basement, where Masalinie Merian performed her Guild Guide service. "Get me to Sadrith Mora _now_!" I barked.

Mesalinie backed away hastily, her face chalk-white. "Ada… you have corprus disease. That's a death sentence. I'm sorry, but… please, just stay away from me."

"_Just do it_!" She obeyed so quickly that I didn't even have time to reach for my purse.

I hit the ground running the instant I materialised in the Wolverine Hall Guild, ignoring the astonished expressions of the mages there. "Can't stop," I yelled over my shoulder. "Corprus disease."

I rushed down the steps out of the Hall and through the courtyard, across the bridge, and down a steep slope to the water's edge. Caius's scrawlings on my map showed the tower of Tel Fyr lying on one of a chain of small islands to the southwest. There was no boat.

By now we were well into the month of Frostfall, and the weather was getting distinctly colder and wetter, but that was the least of my worries right now. I dumped my armour unceremoniously in a heap by the waterside and frantically cast and re-cast my Water Walking spell until I finally got it right, then pelted across the water in the direction of Tel Fyr, only stopping to gulp down potions of magicka restoration and re-cast the spell. When the inevitable happened and I plunged into the freezing water half-way to the next island, I spat out mouthfuls of salty brine and half-swam, half-waded to the shore, tears rolling down my cheeks.

By the time I dragged myself ashore on the island of Tel Fyr, I was sobbing with exhaustion and despair and my lungs felt as if they were ready to burst. How had I come to this? Only this morning, my future had seemed so rosy; now here I was, standing on a lonely shore in one of the bleakest parts of Vvardenfell, stricken with an incurable disease and facing an extended stay as a patient in Divayth Fyr's 'Corprusarium'. At best.

What if he didn't manage to cure me? I shuddered violently, remembering the state of that corprus victim in Ilunibi. No, anything was preferable to a fate like that – even death. I gripped the hilt of my sword, slightly comforted by the thought that if the worst came to the worst, I had another way out.

I had to squeeze the water out of my clothes before entering Fyr's mushroom tower. The narrow passageways, low ceilings and wet, fleshy walls somehow seemed even more disturbing than usual, and I had no idea which way to go. I spotted a Dunmer woman standing in a room just by the entrance, and paused to speak to her.

"Have you come to plunder the dungeon?" she asked, before I could say anything. "Or did you come to see Divayth Fyr? I'm Beyte Fyr, his wife... well, one of them. Sort of."

I frowned. I was finding it quite hard to think straight at this point, but that last part definitely hadn't sounded right. "_One_ of them?"

"Yes. Well, not 'wife' in the 'married' sense, but... you know. 'Paramour.' 'Consort.' Something like that." She shrugged. "It's a bit awkward, really. Because... well... he made us, too, so, though we aren't really his daughters or anything…"

"His _daughters_?" Good grief. I'd heard about the kind of things people got up to in these out-of-the-way places, but...

"Well… it's _like_ we were his daughters. Because he made us. You see?"

I didn't see, and now I was struggling to recall what I'd come here for in the first place. "I'd like to see Divayth Fyr, please," I said at last.

"He's up above in his study. You can't get up there unless you can fly." She gave me a hard look. "You _can_ levitate, can't you?"

"Er… yes." Well, technically I could. With a potion.

I followed Beyte's directions to the living quarters, where there was supposed to be a way up to Divayth's study, but I just couldn't find it. I spent several minutes wandering around aimlessly before finally looking _up_ and spotting a small, circular hole in the ceiling of the passage. The room above looked to be a long way up, but I had to trust to the potions Caius had given me. One potion allowed me to levitate for just long enough to reach the upper tower, where I spotted an elderly male Dunmer – presumably Divayth Fyr – standing by a desk in an adjoining room.

For all my distress, I couldn't help being curious to see what this 'ancient' wizard would look like. As it turned out, he didn't really look that old at all, apart from being one of the few Dunmer I'd seen with white hair – if he'd been human, I'd have guessed him to be in his seventies. I noticed that he also wore almost a full set of Daedric armour, not something I'd have expected to see on an aged wizard.

"Well, what a pleasure!" he exclaimed, as soon as I entered the room. "A visitor! An entertaining diversion! Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr?" Unlike most Dunmer I'd met, he spoke Tamrielic without a trace of an accent. He could easily have passed for a well-bred gentleman from the Heartlands.

"Yes. Um, I brought you a gift," I added, suddenly remembering the Dwemer piece. "It's a Dwemer… something."

"A gift for me? How thoughtful! And shrewd." He took it from me with a wink. "I suppose you know I am a collector, and that such a gift is bound to please me. So, why have you tried to butter me up? Want to plunder the dungeon? Or leer at my daughters?"

I was a little taken aback by that last one. "Er…"

"Not bad for something born in a jar, eh?" he said with a wink. "Alfe, Beyte, Delte and Uupse. Not daughters, really – a little project, a side benefit of my researches into corprus disease. Made them myself, from my own flesh. Quite a comfort to me in my old age… hah, hah."

I stared at him, feeling slightly dizzy all of a sudden. Gods help me, this guy was my only hope. My entire life lay in the hands of a crazed Telvanni mage who created 'daughters' from his own flesh and then slept with them.

With a great effort, I managed to pull myself together. "Actually, _sera_, I came here because I have corprus disease. I… was hoping you might be able to help me?" I couldn't keep the note of pleading out of my voice.

"Ah, yes. I see now." He got up from his seat and walked over to me in order to examine me more closely.

"The magical principles of corprus disease are elusive and miraculous," he stated ponderously, prodding at one of the swellings on my neck. "I'm persuaded that it is in some manner the curse or blessing of a god – perhaps both. The victim, of course, cannot appreciate the marvellous nature of corprus – " well, you _don't say_! " – but to a wizard, it is a profound and glorious mystery, a riddle worth a long lifetime of study."

Gods, I couldn't believe this. Typical _bloody_ wizard! You come to them with a hideous flesh-eating disease that leaves you half-crazed, swollen up like a balloon and covered in weeping sores, and all they can say is "oh, how _fascinating_."

"Did you know that corprus makes you immune to disease?" he continued, oblivious to my growing terror. "Have you ever heard of the prophecies of the Nerevarine? Ashlanders say the Nerevarine will be immune to disease. I've always thought that maybe I have the Nerevarine down in my Corprusarium, and I don't even know it." He chuckled softly. "The Nerevarine is a fat, disgusting corprus monster, and mad as a marsh rat. Wouldn't that be funny?"

I drew a shaky breath, trying to fight down a rising sense of hysteria. "Ser Fyr," I begged. "Please. If you have _any_ idea of how to cure this – any way at all – then please, please tell me about it. I'll do anything you want. Join House Telvanni. Please." What the hell, I thought, I'd already tried the other two; might as well make it a hat-trick!

Fyr chuckled again. "Join my House? I'm not sure you would… fit in, my friend. Best stick to Redoran."

How the heck did he know I was a Redoran? Oh well, it hardly mattered at this point. "Something else, then," I begged. "_Please_?"

"Well. I've got a potion." He paused. "In _theory_, it should cure corprus. Doesn't work, though – probably kill you. Killed all my test subjects. But you've got nothing to lose, have you?"

I didn't waste even a second thinking about my answer. "Fine. I'll take it."

He raised a finger. "Before I give it to you, though, I want you to look around below in the Corprusarium. Know what's in store if you _don't_ take the potion. And while you're there, I want you to pick up a pair of boots from a victim, calls himself Yagrum Bagarn. Bring the boots back, and then you can have the potion."

A pair of boots? _That_ was all he wanted in return for possibly saving my life?

"Okay," I said. "I'll do it. I'll go now. Er… what was the guy's name again?"

When I got down to the Corprusarium entrance, in the lower part of the tower, I found it guarded by an Argonian in steel armour. "I am Vistha-Kai, Warden of the Corprusarium," he hissed. "I am here to warn you: do not harm the inmates. If you come to plunder the dungeon, you must endure their attacks, and take your chances with me, their Warden and Protector."

"I'm not here to plunder the bloody dungeon," I snarled, close to tears again (looking back, I realise the corprus was causing me some fairly violent mood swings). "I just came to collect some boots for Divayth Fyr."

He shrugged. "Well, I will not tolerate you adding to their suffering. Indeed, they are brutal and ferocious, and they will kill you if they can. But you are their guests, and you may not harm them, or you will answer to me."

"Okay, whatever." What exactly was I was supposed to do to stop them attacking me, then? Oh, right… I had a Chameleon amulet, didn't I.

The inside of the Corprusarium was the closest thing I'd ever seen to a living nightmare. All around me those deranged, bloated creatures lurched and shambled about, wandering aimlessly back and forth with only the occasional groan or roar of pain. And yet, when I looked at them closely I could see that some of them were still semi-rational, and vaguely aware of what was happening to them. Nothing on Nirn, I thought, could possibly be worse than that.

Deep within the Corprusarium I came across a small secluded area with a wardrobe, a cluttered table, and some chests and cushions. There were two people there – one was a Dunmer woman in bonemold armour, presumably another of Divayth Fyr's daughters… wives… whatever. The other was a very short and incredibly fat man, who seemed to have no legs at all, just an enormous belly. He was sitting on something that looked like a giant mechanical spider, and his body was hideously disfigured with corprus – but as I drew closer I realised that he was very much conscious and alert.

"Excuse me," I said hesitantly, forgetting that my Chameleon spell was still active. "Are you Yagrum Bagarn, by any chance?"

"What? Where… oh, _there_ you are." He sighed with relief. "Please, do try not to startle me like that. Anyway, what brings you to visit Yagrum Bagarn, Master Crafter, and Last Living Dwarf?"

I stared at him, feeling a little dizzy. "Last living _Dwarf_?"

He nodded. "This is how I style myself. I do not know for a fact that I am the last, but in my travels thousands of years ago, I never encountered another. And since I have been here, I often ask Lord Fyr, but he says he has never heard a credible rumor of another Dwemer – on Tamriel, or in any Outer Realm."

"But… but that's…" My voice trailed off as I remembered that no one actually knew what had happened to the Dwarves – for all I knew, there _could_ still be some around. Certainly I had to admit that he didn't look like any race I was familiar with.

"Anyway, you're here for the Dwemer boots," he continued, taking up a pair from the cushion beside him. "Tell my gracious Keeper that I have done what I could – only a Dwemer magecrafter could have done so much. But only idiots could have created these boots. It shames my race that we must be judged by the works of such lack-wit blunderers."

"Uhh…" I croaked, completely lost for words. I just wasn't in any state to cope with this right now. If this guy really was a Dwarf – which I still doubted, to be honest – this could have been the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to solve a mystery that had plagued scholars for millennia. But I simply couldn't handle any more of this craziness; I felt like I was going mad already.

I took the boots and hurried back through the Corprusarium and the tower, pausing only to re-cast the Chameleon enchantment. When I got back to Fyr I found him sitting at his desk, scribbling some notes. "Here," I gasped, flinging the boots onto the desk. "Now give me the potion. _Please_."

"Very well," he said. "I'll give you the potion, on the following condition: you must drink it here, before my eyes. It should act immediately, and I need to observe you very carefully. Agreed?"

"Yes, _yes_, just give it to me! Please!"

Fyr took a small vial full of dark liquid from his strongbox and handed it to me. Here goes nothing, I thought, as I tore out the stopper and gulped it down. Talk about kill or cure!

The taste was utterly, indescribably revolting. I actually had to squeeze my lips shut with my fingers to stop myself from spitting the mixture out and force myself to swallow it. Nothing happened for a second or two; then, suddenly, I felt a faint tingling sensation in my scalp. As I stood there I could feel it slowly spreading throughout my body, right down to the tips of my fingers and toes.

"What's happening?" I said anxiously. "Is it doing anything?" Well, at least it hadn't killed me yet.

Fyr hesitated, a very strange expression on his face. "Goodness…" Suddenly he leapt to his feet. "Good grief! Look! Look! It's... WORKING!"

He rushed over to me and grabbed hold of my shoulder, peering closely into my face. He poked and prodded me in several different places, spun me around, made me open my mouth so he could examine my tongue, and finally let me go.

"Amazing," he breathed. "I think it worked. No sign of the disease at all. Of course, you still have corprus disease, just like I planned – "

"WHAT?"

"But all your symptoms are gone," he continued blithely. "Marvellous. I'll go try it out on some of the more desperate inmates. But I'll answer any questions you have before you go."

For several seconds I hesitated, unsure whether to believe him or not. I cast a suspicious glance down at my hands, arms and legs, all of which looked healthy. Gingerly I patted at my face and neck; the swellings were gone. The fog seemed to have lifted from my mind, and I could think clearly again.

I took a deep breath. "Okay, so you say I still have corprus. What does that mean, practically? Is it still possible for me to infect other people?"

"No, but the positive effects of the disease are still active. Increased strength, for example, and immunity to all other diseases. And you'll live forever, barring accidents."

I was starting to feel slightly dizzy again. Had I heard that right? "Live forever? So… so you're saying I'm _immortal_?"

"As I said… barring accidents."

Immortality and immunity to disease… why did that sound familiar? Lines of poetry flashed through my mind: _Neither Blight nor age shall harm him, The Curse-of-flesh before him flies…_

I swallowed hard, feeling a slight shiver run down my spine. "You're _sure_ I'm not still infectious?" I asked, trying to keep my mind on the here-and-now.

"Yes, yes," he said, waving a hand impatiently. "You're completely cured. Now, will that be all? I don't wish to be rude, but I have many other matters to attend to."

"Okay. Well… thanks, I guess," I said. "For everything. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"Not at all." He lifted the Dwemer artifact I'd brought him from his desk and placed it carefully onto a shelf. "Always a pleasure to find a new subject for study… Now, be off with you."

I have to admit I was pretty relieved that he wasn't going to hold me to my promise of joining House Telvanni. Now that my mind was clear again, I could think of a thousand reasons why that would be a really _bad_ idea. Let's face it, Fyr was right: I wouldn't fit in. And besides, I rather liked the Redorans, even if they were a bit stingy about actually paying me for the work I did for them.

I left the room slowly, deep in thought, and very nearly fell down the narrow chute leading to the lower part of the tower. It was then that I realised I didn't actually have any way to get down, short of jumping (and probably breaking a few limbs in the process). Caius had only given me three Rising Force potions, and I'd drunk them all.

I glanced back nervously at Divayth Fyr, who was busy writing at his desk. The last thing I wanted was to have to go back to him and say "sorry, but I can't get down." Luckily, at that moment I spotted one of his 'daughters' emerging from another room.

"Um, excuse me," I said. "Sorry to bother you, but, er..."

She glanced from me to the hole in the floor, and sighed. "You flew up here using a Rising Force potion, didn't you?"

"That's right," I said, trying not to wince.

"And now you don't have any way to get down, do you?"

"Um… no."

She rolled her eyes. "Another genius here, I see."

"Look, give me a break," I mumbled, crimson with embarrassment. "I was dying of corprus disease when I came up here, can you blame me for being a bit distracted?"

Ms. Fyr narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Do you _want_ to get down there or not?"

"Yes. Please," I said hastily.

She raised her hands towards me and mumbled some words in Daedric. There was a flash of white light. "Okay, I've cast a Slowfall spell on you. It won't last long, so get down there _quickly_ before it wears off."

I'd no idea whether it really was a Slowfall spell she'd just cast on me, but it wasn't like I had much choice. Gritting my teeth, I stepped over the edge of the hole, and found myself floating gently down towards the ground. I landed with a slight bump just as the spell wore off.

I emerged from the tower into the weak evening light. Was it really only that same morning that I'd set out for Ilunibi? It felt like days had passed since then. As I walked towards the coast, dreading the thought of having to water-walk my way back again, I spotted something I hadn't noticed before: a small ferry-boat by a dock in the distance.

Why hadn't anyone told me there was a boat? Then again, they'd probably have refused to take me anyway while I was suffering from corprus. I walked over to the boat to speak to the shipmaster, who turned out to be an Imperial woman like me.

"I can't bring people to the island from Sadrith Mora," she explained. "I can only take them back again."

Was I right in thinking that made no sense whatsoever, or was it just a hangover from the corprus disease? Nope, I was right: it didn't make any sense.

The shipmaster tried to make conversation as we travelled back to Sadrith Mora, but I wasn't really in the mood for talking. I was still finding it hard to take in what Divayth Fyr had told me about the effects of corprus. To be honest, I wasn't even sure I _wanted_ to live forever – I couldn't help remembering a tale I'd once read, of a legendary swordsman who was unable to die. Would I end up like him, wandering the whole world and fighting everyone I met, desperately seeking someone to put me out of my misery?

And what was more, I couldn't get that verse from _The Seven Visions_ out of my mind. I hadn't paid any attention to the 'born on a certain day' crap, but to have become ageless and immune to disease on top of that, and the letter from Dagoth Ur… it was hard to dismiss all this as just coincidence. Could it possibly be that…?

No, it was still ridiculous. Even if I _was_ Nerevar's reincarnation, and somehow managed to persuade the Dunmer to believe this, wasn't the Nerevarine supposed to drive the Imperials out of Morrowind? Well, screw _that_. I'm not what you'd call hugely patriotic, but there was no way I was going to declare war against my own people.

It's wasn't my problem, I told myself. They'd just have to… wait for him to be reincarnated into someone else, or something. (I tried not to think about the fact that I'd probably have to die before this could happen.)

I found my armour lying just where I had left it, and spent some time cleaning and polishing it back at Wolverine Hall before returning to the Mages' Guild to teleport back to Balmora. Iniel, the High Elf woman who acted as Guild Guide there, looked at me with deep suspicion. "Didn't you have corprus disease just a few hours ago?"

"That's right," I said. "I got better."

It was very late when I arrived back in Balmora, and I was dead tired – but I decided to go to Caius' house anyway, just in case he was waiting for me. Turned out I was right: when I reached his house I saw a dim light in the window and realised that he'd sat up for me all evening. A wave of guilt swept over me as I remembered how I'd yelled at him earlier.

"Ah, Ada," he said, as soon as he opened the door to me. "So… Divayth Fyr managed to help you, did he?" I could swear I saw a trace of relief in his eyes. Could it be that he himself was feeling slightly guilty about the mess he'd got me into?

"Yes. Er, Caius," I said gruffly. "About the things I said earlier… I just wanted to say that I'm very sorry. I didn't mean any of it, I was just a bit… over-emotional. What with the corprus and all."

He waved this away. "Never mind that. I'm very happy to see you've been cured. But I've had a bit of bad news, I'm afraid." He paused. "I've been recalled to the Imperial City."

"Sorry to hear it," I said politely, though privately I couldn't help being delighted. This could only make it easier for me to leave Morrowind myself. "Er, how will this affect me, exactly?"

"You'll be promoted to Operative, and will head the Blades here in Vvardenfell until I return," he said. "I've only waited here to give you your final orders before I go."

I nearly fell over. "What? Caius, is this a joke?"

"Not at all. I'm quite serious."

"But I don't _know_ how to be a spymaster!"

"There's nothing to it," he said, shrugging. "Each agent has his own assignment, and reports directly to Cyrodiil. You're promoted to Operative mostly to preserve your independence."

I gaped at him, fury welling up inside me. So much for feeling guilty for all the names I'd called him! So _this_ was his plan to keep me in Morrowind, was it? Well, I wasn't falling for it this time.

I drew in a deep breath, and looked straight at him. "No."

"No?"

"No. I won't do this, Caius. I told you that last mission was the last thing I'd ever do for you, and I _meant_ it."

"But surely, after all that's happened, you must see – "

"No! N-O! Look, Caius," I said, "all this Nerevarine stuff was okay at first, but it's gone beyond a joke. If Divayth Fyr hadn't happened to have the right potion, I'd be rotting in his Corprusarium right now. I'm not playing any longer. Soon as I save up enough money, I'm going straight back to Cyrodiil."

Caius regarded me doubtfully, rubbing his chin. Apparently it was just beginning to sink in that I actually meant what I was saying. "Ada," he said carefully, "I know it isn't easy to accept that you're the Nerevarine, but – "

"I won't do it," I said. "You can't make me."

He shook his head slowly. "The Emperor will not be pleased."

"The Emperor can kiss my – " I broke off, trying to think of a way to finish that sentence that wouldn't get me killed. "I'm sorry, Caius, but no. Even the Emperor would have to admit that I've more than paid off my debt to him by now. I am _not doing it_, and that's my final answer."

He said nothing. "Well, goodbye," I said at last. "I hope everything goes well for you back in Cyrodiil. Blessings of Akatosh, Caius."

Caius remained silent. I sighed, shrugged, and left the house without another word.

As I walked back to the Fighters' Guild, I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Sure, it was a shame about the argument with Caius, but still… I was free. Finally free. No more crazy cults, no more prophecies, no more trips out to the back of beyond to con a bunch of Ashlanders into accepting me as their personal saviour.

By the time I reached the Guild I was so tired that I was ready to collapse. I barely even had the energy to strip off my damp, muddy clothes before falling into bed, dropping off to sleep almost the second my head touched the pillow. Unfortunately, I didn't get to sleep for long.


	21. Chapter 21: The Plot Thickens

**Chapter 21: The Plot Thickens**

Only a short while later – it can't have been more than an hour after I fell asleep – I was awakened by a very strange noise, a sort of low-pitched moan. I opened my eyes and almost screamed in terror as I saw a not-quite-human shape looming over me in the dim light. I couldn't make out its features, but I could _very_ clearly see the silhouette of the large, spiked club it held in its hand. As I watched, momentarily frozen with shock, it grasped the weapon with both hands and raised it above its head, poised to strike.

Acting purely on instinct, I flung back the covers and kicked the mysterious figure squarely in the stomach. As it staggered backwards with a grunt of pain, I leapt to my feet, grabbed my sword – which I always kept by me in case of emergencies – and viciously slashed at the creature's face, chest and stomach. It didn't bleed, it… _crumbled_.

"What the hell's going on?" The noise had woken several people in the other bunks, and a couple of guards had rushed to see what was happening, bringing lamps. "What _is_ that thing?"

'That thing', which was now lying on the floor in a messy heap, was a humanoid figure wearing nothing but a loincloth. Its flesh was a strange powdery grey, as if it were made of ash – in fact, it appeared to me that it _was_ made of ash. The scariest thing about it was that it seemed to have no face – just a burnt-out hole in place of its eyes and nose, and a large, curved gash where its mouth ought to be. I didn't have a clue what it was, but I had a pretty good idea who could tell me.

Wasting no time, I flung on some clothes and hurried out into the streets, leaving the others to clean up the mess. I ran at full tilt through the streets to Caius' house, where I pounded on the door and banged at the windows, not caring who heard me. "_Caius_! Open up!"

About thirty seconds later, a sleepy-looking Caius answered the door in only his underclothes (ugh). "Ada?" he asked, stifling a yawn. "What is it?"

I leaned against the doorframe, panting heavily. "I've just been attacked in my bed by some sort of ash… zombie!"

"Ah," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Yes. I thought something like this might happen."

"_Whaaa…_?"

"Come in." He drew me into the house, shut the door, and steered me towards a chair. "Obviously I didn't know _this_ would happen, exactly. But I knew the Sixth House weren't likely to give up that easily."

"What do you mean?"

Caius sighed. "They know who you are now, Ada. Remember that letter you showed me? You may not believe you're the Nerevarine, but Dagoth Ur certainly does. And as long as you're alive, you're still a threat to him."

"So what shall I _do_?" I was starting to panic.

"Well, for a start, I'd stop sleeping in town from now on. Makes it too easy for them to find you. Maybe camping out in the backcountry is safer."

I felt a painful throbbing in my left temple. "So you're saying I can't even sleep in a proper _bed_ now?!"

"Up to you, of course. Or you could try taking the fight to them; they might have a base nearby."

I winced. I didn't even want to _think_ about taking on any more Sixth House bases after what I'd been through in the last one. What was more, I had a horrible feeling I knew the answer to my next question.

"And… if I leave Morrowind?" I said weakly. "Will he still think I'm a threat?"

"I don't know."

I looked at him with deep suspicion. "You're not just saying that to keep me here in Morrowind, are you?"

"No, Ada, I'm not. I honestly have no idea."

I'd have loved to believe he was lying, but it was no use. When I'd had corprus I'd managed to convince myself that this was all part of Caius' clever schemes, but now that I could think rationally again, I realised that this was impossible. Even Caius couldn't summon up Sixth House creatures at his convenience just to punish me for disobeying his orders. Unless he was somehow in league with them, and… no, that was even more far-fetched.

If I'd only stood my ground, things might have turned out very differently. But I couldn't help it; I simply didn't have the energy to fight any more. I was exhausted, bewildered, sleep-deprived, aching all over from the previous day's 'adventure', and all I wanted now was to curl up in a ball and sleep for the rest of the month, or preferably the year. I was spent.

"All right, Caius," I said wearily, flopping back in my chair. "I give up. You win. If I have to fulfill the stupid prophecies to get Dagoth Ur off my back, that's what I'll do. Just tell me what needs to be done, and I'll do it."

"Very well." He seemed wide awake all of a sudden. "Mehra Milo says the Dissident Priests do have records of Ashlander Nerevarine prophecies, and she has an idea how we might get a look at them. Go to the Hall of Wisdom and Justice and get Mehra to help you find the lost prophecies, then take them to Nibani Maesa and follow her advice. I can't help you from now on, I'm afraid."

"That's all?"

He nodded. "Just remember that Mehra's being watched. If something has gone wrong, find her private quarters; she'll leave you a message there under the code word 'amaya'. Oh, and one more thing…"

"Yes?"

"Just a little advice," he said. "You're no fool, Ada. The days of the Empire are almost over."

I swallowed hard. "Things are really that bad?"

Caius nodded, his expression sombre. "When the Emperor dies, nine hells are going to break loose. Forget about the Imperial City – think locally. Worry about the Sixth House and Dagoth Ur, and squabbles between the Great Houses and the colonists. The rest of the political nonsense doesn't amount to a plate of scuttle."

I'd forgotten to bring my journal, so he had to everything down for me on a scrap of paper. "Take these blacks," he said just before I left, handing me a neatly-folded black shirt and pair of pants. So he _did_ have a shirt! "You can use the house until I return, and I won't be needing this ring while I'm in Cyrodiil. Take good care of them… and good luck."

I plodded slowly back towards the Fighters' Guild, thinking over what Caius had said to me. I knew I ought to be shocked, and upset, but right now I just felt numb. Maybe it was just too much to take in on top of everything else.

If the Empire did fall, what would replace it? I wasn't much of a scholar, but I knew enough history to realise that the fall of Empires didn't tend to be followed by a Golden Age of peace and prosperity. The last time the Empire had come close to collapse was during the Imperial Simulacrum, when the Emperor's chief battlemage had imprisoned him in Oblivion and secretly taken his place. I was too young to remember those times, but my parents weren't, and from what they'd told me – when they were willing to discuss it at all – I got the impression it had been anything but a pleasant time to live through.

As I crossed the bridge over the Odai, I was so deep in thought that I barely noticed the guy standing right in front of me. It wasn't until I got up close to him that I realised he wasn't moving, and was blocking my way. I looked up at him in bewilderment, and realised with a sinking heart that I recognised him: a green robe, a scarred face, and an all-too-familiar glazed look in his eyes.

"The wickwheat is winnowed, and under the harrow, the earth is prepared for planting." His red eyes glowed eerily in the flickering light of the torch he carried."The _n'wah_ must die, and their flesh serve to sweeten the soil."

Hang on, this was a new one. "The _n'wah_ must die?"

"_You_, foreigner! You must die." He leaned in towards me, his face contorted with hatred."Beasts and men, outlander mer, all must die. Flee his wrath and quit this land, if you would live, or your flesh shall feed the earth."

To say that I really didn't need this right now would be an understatement. "Get _away_ from me." I could hear the tremor in my voice. "Get out of my way _now_ or I'll shove you into the river."

He just stood there, those red gimlet-eyes boring right into me. For a second I thought I might actually have to make good on my threat, but at the last moment he suddenly turned and stalked away. As the retreating figure vanished into an alleyway, I realised that I was shaking.

Back at the Fighters' Guild, I took stock of the situation. I basically had two choices: hire bodyguards, or follow Caius' advice and sleep outside of town. Since the first option wasn't exactly practical on my current budget, it looked like I'd either have to bunk down in the nearest cave or try the barracks at Fort Moonmoth.

Would the Sixth House servants find me if I slept at the fort? Well, it was worth a try. At the very least, being surrounded by a lot of heavily-armed soldiers would make me feel a bit safer.

I packed up as many of my belongings as I could and set out for the fort, now so tired that I was literally close to collapse. Upon arrival, I rolled into the first bed available and fell into a long, mercifully uninterrupted sleep.

It was almost midday when I finally woke up the next morning. I lay there for several minutes, replaying the previous day's events in my head as I tried to collect my thoughts. Okay… I'd killed a Sixth House priest, been cursed with corprus disease, got cured of corprus disease, met a guy who claimed to be the Last Living Dwarf, and nearly got myself brained by an ash creature. Now I just had to work out which of those had actually happened and which I'd just imagined.

The 'Last Living Dwarf' part I was fairly sure was a hallucination, either on my part or more likely on his. That was one of the symptoms of corprus, wasn't it? Perhaps the guy I'd met was in the early stages: still able to speak coherently and hold a conversation, but completely delusional. Poor bastard.

Everything else, though, I was fairly sure had really happened. And I had a nasty feeling that somewhere along the line I'd agreed to become the Imperial Spymaster for Vvardenfell. Clearly I needed to grab Caius before he left and have a _long_ talk about what this actually meant, and how long I'd be doing it for.

I walked back to Balmora in the early afternoon, after a long and vigorous bath and a hearty meal. Before doing anything else, I stopped by the Mages' Guild to buy supplies. Masalinie Merian had already gone to bed when I'd returned the previous night, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw me.

"Ada!" She took a nervous step backwards as I approached. "Are you… did you…?"

"Yep, I'm cured," I said flatly. "I could explain how, but it would probably take all afternoon."

She hesitated, still hovering nervously at a safe distance. "Are you _sure_ you're cured?"

"I'm _fine_," I told her. "I promise. I am no longer infectious."

She still looked a bit suspicious, but I finally managed to convince her that I really was 100% corprus-free. "Well," she said. "That's truly amazing. I've never seen anything like it before."

As I left the room, I could hear her and some of the other mages whispering together. No doubt a wildly-exaggerated version of the story would be all over Balmora before the week was out.

Afterwards I crossed the river into eastern Balmora to visit Caius. I knocked at his door several times, but for the first time ever, he didn't answer. Thinking he might be out, I leaned against the door to wait – and was astonished when it instantly swung inwards under my weight.

The house was empty. It looked exactly as it had done the night before, only… no Caius. Looking around the room, I spotted a money pouch lying on the table alongside a short note.

_Ada,_

_Had to leave sooner than I expected. I've left you some gold – you'll need it for expenses._

_Caius_

So he'd gone. I picked up the bag of gold and jiggled it about in my hands. For ages I'd wanted to be rid of Caius, but now that he'd gone, I actually felt a little lost. What was I going to do now?

I walked back to the Mages' Guild with a heavy heart. Masalinie realised something was wrong the minute she saw me. "What's the matter, Ada?"

"He's gone," I said dully.

"Gone? Who's gone?"

"Caius. I visited him just last night, and now he's… well, _gone_."

"Oh, sweetheart." To my immense surprise, she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. "Men are such beasts, aren't they? But Ada, my love, I'm _sure_ an attractive girl like you can do better than that." She wrinkled her nose. "To be quite honest, none of us could understand what you saw in him in the first place."

I opened my mouth to protest, and then closed it again. What did it matter now, anyway? "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Take my advice, and find someone closer to your own age. One of those strapping lads at the Fighters' Guild should be just your type." She winked. "After all, you know what they say about the best way to get over a man…"

I'd heard that expression, yes. Maybe it _was_ time I found a boyfriend, I thought. After all, it looked like I was going to be here for quite a while yet. And it was certainly long enough since I'd last slept with anyone (though given that I'd spent most of that time in prison, that was probably a _good_ thing).

Masalinie transported me to Vivec, where I hurried to the Temple canton to look for the Temple priestess Mehra Milo. She wasn't anywhere in the Library of Vivec, so I decided to take Caius' advice and look for her quarters. How was I supposed to find them, though? It wasn't like I could ask anyone.

I finally managed to locate them through a scribbled floor plan someone had left on a desk. The door was locked, and no one answered when I tried knocking. After checking no one was nearby, I set out to pick the lock, which luckily wasn't too much of a challenge.

The room behind the door was clean and tidy, but Mehra wasn't there. She'd left a short note on top of a chest of drawers, and my heart sank as I read it:

_Amaya,_

_Sorry I missed you. I had to run some old documents over to the Inquisitor at the Ministry of Truth, and I'm likely to be tied up there for a while. Why don't you meet me there as soon as you can? Then we can leave together as soon as I'm done. And Amaya, don't forget to bring me the two Divine Intervention scrolls you borrowed. Or, if you used them, buy a couple of new ones for me. I think I'm going to need them soon. Janand Maulinie at the Mages Guild in the Foreign Quarter keeps them in stock._

_Alvela Saram is the guard at the entrance; just tell her you're looking for me, and she'll let you in._

_Your faithful friend,_

_Mehra_

_PS: I left a couple of Levitate potions here for you, just in case. I couldn't remember if you knew the spell or not, so I drew a couple from stock._

How a message like this could possibly have fooled even the most brain-damaged Ordinator was beyond me. Honestly, "I'm likely to be _tied up_ there for a while?" Even I could have done a better job of writing a 'coded' message based on the spy novels I'd read as a teenager. No wonder the Dissident Priests kept getting themselves arrested if this was their idea of 'secret' communications.

So Mehra needed me to spring her from jail, did she? Great, another marvellous opportunity to get myself arrested and tortured. At least I had the Divine Intervention scrolls she'd asked for, so I could make a hasty exit if things got too hairy.

Sighing, I took the letter and the Rising Force potions and made my way to the shrine of Vivec on top of the canton. Rather than just drinking one of the potions, I donated one to the shrine for the usual 24-hour Levitation blessing. The last thing I wanted was for the spell to wear off at an inconvenient moment. I levitated up to the Ministry of Truth, where a female Ordinator stood guard on one of the balconies – I could tell she was female because she didn't wear the usual closed helmet.

"Excuse me," I said cautiously, hovering a few feet away from her. "Are you Alvela Saram?"

"I'm sorry. No pilgrims allowed in the Ministry," she said firmly. "I'll have to ask you to lea- wait, you're not here to visit anyone, are you?"

I shook my head, and she quickly handed me a key she'd concealed beneath her belt. "Mehra said you would come," she whispered. "I'll say you subdued me with magic and stole my key. It opens all three exterior doors – the upper back door is best."

"I don't suppose you happen to have keys to the cells, do you?"

"I'm afraid not." Of course; that would have been too easy. "Search for the keys in desks; no one carries keys while on duty. Mehra is in Prison Keep in the cell on the far right. Oh… and some of us are sympathetic to the Dissident priests, but kill an Ordinator, and you'll lose that sympathy. Mehra said you've got rank in the Temple, so maybe you can bluff your way through."

Somehow I doubted that my extremely low rank in the Temple would allow me to bluff my way past the guards – or, for that matter, that anyone would believe I was capable of subduing an Ordinator with magic. My only hope was to stay out of sight until I got to Mehra. Luckily I had a secret weapon: my Amulet of Shadows. (Boy was I glad I'd been lucky enough to find that thing!)

I flew up to the back door Alvela had mentioned and cast the amulet's enchantment before braving the Ministry of Truth – probably the first time a non-Dunmer had ever entered it except as a prisoner. The interior was gloomy and forbidding, as you'd expect from a prison carved out of a big floating rock. I didn't waste time searching for keys – I just hurried through the corridors, past doors with creepy names like 'Hall of Processing', until I reached the one marked 'Prison Keep' and used an Ondusi's Unhinging scroll to open it.

I found myself in a vaguely circular, cavern-like room with a high domed ceiling. Heavily-armed Ordinators patrolled the room on raised wooden platforms, while a group of miserable-looking prisoners milled about on the rock floor below. Mehra wasn't among them, but I could see a heavy door on the right side of the room which presumably led to her cell.

I floated up and over the guards and down to the cell door, where I prepared to cast the Chameleon enchantment again before trying the lock – only to realise there wasn't enough charge left on the amulet. Bugger. I didn't have any Ondusi's Unhinging scrolls left either, and there certainly wasn't time to try and pick the lock.

I tried casting the Unhinging spell myself, once again cursing myself for not having paid more attention to my magic lessons. I'd been the despair of my Alteration tutor, but she'd certainly had the last laugh. It failed, of course, and now I had only seconds left before the spell wore off.

My second attempt failed just as miserably, and moments later I realised my hands had become visible again. I cast a desperate glance around me, and noticed several of the prisoners looking at me in astonishment and confusion. The guards hadn't spotted me yet, but they soon would. Ignoring the other prisoners, I closed my eyes, concentrated _really_ hard, and whispered the words of the spell one last time.

The click of the lock sliding back was the most wonderful sound I'd ever heard. Quickly I yanked open the door and slipped through it, hoping the loud creaking sound wouldn't alert the guards. But it seemed my luck had run out – just as the door swung shut behind me, I heard an angry shout.

"Shit!" I announced to a surprised-looking Mehra Milo. "I think they're on to us."

With admirable presence of mind, Mehra strode over to the door and cast a Lock spell on it. It would buy us some time, though probably only a minute or two at most. "Do you have the scrolls?" she demanded.

I nodded and started to dig around in my pack for the Divine Intervention scrolls. Outside I could hear loud banging on the door, and lots of yelling in Dunmeris – angry curses and shouts of "Find the key!"

I found the scrolls, threw one of them to Mehra and quickly cast the other myself. Seconds later we were both standing in the courtyard of a large Imperial-style stone building. "Where are we?" I asked, blinking.

"Outside the Imperial Chapels in Ebonheart." She smiled. "Of course, normally I only use Almsivi Intervention scrolls. But for my escape from the Ministry of Truth, a Divine Intervention scroll was just what I needed."

A grin spread across my face as I realised how clever she'd been. Even if the Ordinators worked out where we'd gone, none of them would know Divine Intervention spells. By the time they got to Ebonheart we'd be long gone.

"We need to go to the secret Dissident Priests monastery at Holamayan," Mehra continued. "I have a friend named Blatta Hateria who can take us there by boat. When we arrive we will get the lost prophecies from Gilvas Barelo, the leader of the Dissident Priests."

We hurried through Ebonheart – me flying, Mehra walking – until we reached the docks, where a young Imperial woman stood on board a small fishing boat. I'd noticed her and her boat a few times in passing, but hadn't thought anything of it. "Hello, Mehra," she said with a smile. "Want to go fishing?"

"We certainly do." Mehra hurried me onto the boat, and we set off for the headquarters of the Dissident Priests.

Holomayan was another three-days' journey away, out on one of the remote islands of Azura's Coast. While we travelled, I told Mehra everything that had happened to me since I last saw her, and mentioned that Caius had been recalled to Cyrodiil.

"I wonder," she said, frowning. "I never know what he's thinking. I think he's involved in something secret, something dangerous. I was hoping he might help us, and now he's gone…"

We reached Holomayan a few hours before dawn on a cold, misty day. As we walked up the steps to the monastery, Mehra told me that it had once been a shrine to Azura – I just couldn't get away from Her Twilightness, it seemed. Apparently the door to the shrine only opened at dawn and dusk, the magical twilight hours sacred to Azura.

We settled down outside the door to wait patiently (well, not quite so patiently on my part) for it to open. Finally, as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, the magically-sealed door slid open with a loud rumbling sound.

Mehra led me inside, and while I took the opportunity to eat and freshen up, she went to explain the situation to Master Gilvas Barelo. A short while later she took me to Barelo, an elderly man with a gentle, wise face, and introduced me – to my horror – as the outlander who believed she might be the Nerevarine. Having kindly dumped me right in it, she left us alone so that we could discuss the Lost Prophecies.

Master Barelo showed me copies of several documents from the 'Apographa', the priestly writings suppressed by the Temple. The first one was the document actually known as 'The Lost Prophecy', which he read out to me:

"_From seventh sign of eleventh generation,  
Neither Hound nor Guar, nor Seed nor Harrow,  
But Dragon-born and far-star-marked,  
Outlander Incarnate beneath Red Mountain,  
Blessed Guest counters seven curses,  
Star-blessed hand wields thrice-cursed blade,  
To reap the harvest of the unmourned house._"

"I've annotated your copy with our best efforts at interpretation," he said. "But a rough summary might be: 'An outlander – foreign-born, but welcomed as a guest – confronts seven curses beneath Red Mountain. His hand, blessed by Azura, uses a cursed blade to bring justice to House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both.'" He shook his head. "The Nerevarine? An outlander? That wouldn't please many Ashlanders, and it may explain how the prophecy got lost."

I could well imagine that it wouldn't please the Ashlanders. On the other hand, 'Dragon-born' certainly seemed like a pretty clear reference to Cyrodiil, or at least the Empire. No matter how little I liked it, the idea of my being the Nerevarine was getting more and more plausible.

"The prophecies all say 'he'," I pointed out, grasping at straws. "Doesn't that mean the Nerevarine would have to be male?"

"Well, the word in the original Ashlander tongue is gender-neutral," he explained. "It was translated as 'he' simply because everyone assumed that Nerevar's reincarnation would be a man." Oh.

The next document he showed me was a poem describing the 'seven curses' mentioned in the Lost Prophecy:

_...through the doors of the unmourned house  
where scoffers scoff and schemers scheme  
from the halls of the oath-breaking house  
rings seven curses of gods blasphemed_

_first curse, Curse-of-Fire  
second curse, Curse-of-Ash  
third curse, Curse-of-Flesh  
fourth curse, Curse-of-Ghosts  
fifth curse, Curse-of-Seed  
sixth curse, Curse-of-Despair  
seventh curse, Curse-of-Dreams..._

Heaven save me from yet more Ashlander poetry. At least this one vaguely rhymed, sort of.

"Fire and ash come from Red Mountain," Barelo explained. "Flesh is corprus. Ghosts, Seed, and Despair are unclear, but Curse-of-Dreams seems to refer to recent cases of soul sickness and Sleeper attacks in the towns."

As I was still trying to absorb all this, he shoved a heavy pile of books into my arms. "Here are a few books about Nerevar you might find of interest. We have also prepared a document for you called _Kagrenac's Tools_, which will explain to you the terrible secret that the Temple conceals about the true history of the Tribunal. It is to conceal this secret that the Temple persecutes the Nerevarine and the Dissident Priests."

I thanked him, trying to look grateful, and retreated to the library to study the books he'd given me. To my surprise, I actually found them quite interesting. It seemed there was rather more to the story of Nerevar and Dagoth Ur than most people thought.

All the 'official' accounts of Nerevar's life agreed on several points: Dagoth Ur of House Dagoth had betrayed the Dunmer during their war against the Dwemer. Lord Nerevar, with the help of his three closest counsellors – his wife Almalexia, and his friends Vivec and Sotha Sil – had united the other Houses against the Dwemer-Dagoth forces. The Dwemer were defeated in the Battle of Red Mountain, Dagoth Ur was killed, and House Dagoth utterly destroyed.

However, _Kagrenac's Tools_ told a slightly different story. According to this, the Dwemer had discovered the heart of the god Lorkhan beneath Red Mountain. A Dwarven priest named Kagrenac had crafted enchanted tools to steal power from the heart, hoping the Dwemer could use them to create a new god for their own benefit. When he used the tools at the Battle of Red Mountain, the entire Dwemer race had instantly vanished from the mortal world.

Dagoth Ur had not betrayed the Dunmer – instead, Nerevar had left him to guard the tools while he went to consult his counsellors. But Dagoth was seduced by the power of the tools, and used them to grant himself divine powers. When Nerevar and the Tribunal returned, they fought and Dagoth was badly wounded – but not killed. After Nerevar's death, the Tribunal succumbed to the temptation to use the tools, turning themselves into gods the same way as Dagoth Ur.

This, the author claimed, was why the Tribunal's powers were fading. Dagoth Ur had been driven mad by the corrupt power of the tools, but the Tribunal had been corrupted by them as well. And since Dagoth Ur was closer to the source of their power, he was slowly growing stronger, while they grew weaker.

It all sounded very far-fetched – gods' hearts, evil cursed tools of DOOM – yet as I thought about it, everything seemed to click into place. The sudden disappearance of the Dwarves… the Tribunal's failure to stop the Blight… and that letter from Dagoth Ur talking about Nerevar's 'betrayal'. In his madness, no doubt he'd convinced himself that he really was innocent of any wrongdoing.

I wandered over to Mehra Milo, who was seated at a table nearby, hoping she might be able to tell me more. She was completely absorbed in a book, and didn't even notice me there until I coughed politely. "Ah, Ada," she said, with a somewhat dreamy smile. "Forgive me; I was caught up in my reading."

I looked down at the book she'd been reading. To my surprise I realised that it was _Children of the Sky_, a simple schoolroom book about the Nords of Skyrim. "Are you interested in Nord culture?" I asked her.

She shrugged. "These people are our ancient enemies. Like all man races, they are of inferior blood, but otherwise are human in every respect. Are they capable of enlightenment? Do they have souls? Who can say?"

I gazed at her for several moments in stunned silence. Had she just said what I thought she had said?

Now don't get me wrong: while I've met people of every race who don't fit the usual stereotypes, I have to admit that for the most part they largely hold true. The Nords are hard-drinking louts who live for fighting, the Khajiit have refined thievery into an art form, and we Cyrodiils will talk you into selling your own grandmother and then haggle over the price. Deep down almost everyone prefers their own people and culture, and anyone who tells you they don't is probably lying. But to convince yourself that your own race really _is_ better, that being born Altmer or Imperial or Dunmer actually makes you a superior being – that's a different matter entirely.

Here was an intelligent, educated woman, with several human friends, open-minded enough to challenge the doctrine of the Temple she belonged to – and yet she was questioning whether Nords (and by extension, all humans) had souls. Did she even realise she was talking to a member of the 'inferior' man races? From the faraway expression on her face, I got the impression that she'd completely forgotten. But even if she hadn't, I suddenly realised, it didn't matter – from her perspective she was just making a simple statement of fact. Almost all Dunmer probably felt that way, even if they were better at hiding it.

Suddenly I felt a long, long way from home. Who the heck was I kidding, thinking that these people would ever accept me as their Nerevarine? I had to get out of here.

I wandered out of the room, leaving Mehra to her book, and went to speak to Gilvas Barelo. "Well, I think I'd better be going," I said, trying to sound casual. "I… need some time to think about all this."

"So soon?" he asked, a little surprised. "But you know you can only enter or leave Holamayan at dusk and dawn? Please, make yourself comfortable here. Rest in our beds, and make good use of our services."

"It's OK," I said firmly. "I have some Almsivi Intervention scrolls left. Thanks for all your help with the prophecies."

I'd taken one of them from my pack while I was speaking. Before Master Barelo could reply I unrolled it and cast the spell, not even caring where it would take me. It was time to go back to Plan A.


	22. Chapter 22: Two's Company

**Chapter 22: Two's Company**

Seconds after casting the spell, I landed in some kind of outdoor courtyard and promptly choked on a mouthful of red dust. As I blundered around in the storm, trying to work out where the hell I was, I realised that I was standing on the open-topped plaza of a Vivec-style canton. Had I gone mad, or had the Blight suddenly spread to the Ascadian Isles while I was travelling to Holamayan?

It finally emerged that I had landed in Molag Mar, a Temple stronghold on the coast of the Molag Amur region (best described as 'like the Ashlands, only worse'). Since I had absolutely no desire to stay there, I hopped on board the first available boat and settled in for the slow journey back to Vivec. When I arrived and went to the Fighters' Guild to repair my equipment, I was accosted by the steward Lorbumol gro-Aglakh.

"I've been looking for you, Ventura," he said, giving me a hearty slap on the back. "Fancy taking on a debt collection job?"

I hated that kind of mission. I was about to mumble some sort of excuse when he continued, "2,000 septims, and you get to keep half of it."

Wow. I had to admit, I could really use that kind of money right now. "Who owes the money?" I asked, privately wondering whom it was owed _to_ as well.

"A woman called Lirielle Stoine, at the Rat in the Pot tavern in Ald'ruhn."

Damn it. I'd got to know Lirielle quite well during the time I'd spent in Ald'ruhn, and I rather liked her – besides, I felt I owed her one for helping me get those shirts back. Perhaps, if all else failed, I could help her the way I'd helped Tongue-Toad.

As I left the guild, I noticed a crowd of people gathered around a 'Wanted' poster pinned to the wall. "Have you heard?" one of them said excitedly. "Somebody broke into the Ministry of Truth and freed a prisoner!"

The poster offered a very large reward for information on the intruder, described as 'of unknown age, race and sex' – clearly the other prisoners hadn't talked. I fervently hoped that no one would ever collect that reward. Given that it also described the unknown intruder as 'a powerful spellcaster', it didn't seem very likely.

I went to Ald'ruhn via the Mages' Guild and headed over to the Rat in the Pot to eat lunch, while thinking over the problem of Lirielle's debt. I decided it would be better not to ask her about it directly – if she knew the Fighters' Guild had sent me after her, she might clam up. When I finished eating, I went to Lirielle and quietly asked her if I could speak to her in private for a minute. She nodded and led me to a storeroom beneath the tavern.

"I know about your debt problems," I said, as soon as I was sure we were alone. "Don't bother asking me how. I just wondered if there was anything I could do to help."

Lirielle looked taken aback. She hesitated for a moment, but finally shook her head. "My brother Ruran is dead," she said flatly. "At least, I believe he is. The Camonna Tong said he owed them money, which I don't dispute – but now they say I owe my brother's debts, and I just don't have the money. How can I pay what I don't have?"

Damn, it was worse than I thought. "Why do you think your brother is dead?" I asked her.

"He knew he was in debt," she said, shrugging. "He went off to 'seek his fortune' in some place called Mallapi northeast of Gnaar Mok, and I haven't heard from him since. That was two months ago."

After what had happened in Ilunibi, the mere mention of Gnaar Mok was enough to make me shudder. What was more, I suspected Lirielle was right about her brother – it was possible he was still alive, but after two months, the chances weren't high. Even so, I felt I ought to at least offer to search for him.

"Would you like me to go there and look for him?" I asked.

Lirielle sighed. "Thank you for offering to help, but I very much doubt you'll find him alive. And even if you do, he's not likely to have the money."

I got the feeling there wasn't too much love lost between her and her brother, given how little she seemed to care whether he was actually dead or not. Still, looking for Ruran was one option; maybe Percius Mercius would have some better ideas.

I didn't go to him immediately, though; instead I went to Skar to visit Athyn Sarethi, my House Redoran sponsor. As usual he appeared warm and friendly, even taking time to introduce me to his wife Domesea, but after my conversation with Mehra Milo it all seemed rather hollow. Did he feel the same way about humans, underneath all the friendliness? I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter – after all, he was still my best hope of ever getting off this godsforsaken island.

Athyn must have sensed that something was wrong. "Are you all right, my friend?" he asked, once we had retreated into his study. "I have not seen you in some weeks. I hope all is well?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said quickly. "Just a little… stressed, that's all."

"Why? What has happened?"

_Let's see…First I managed to accidentally summon the Daedra Lord Azura, who bullied me into helping her win a bet against Sheogorath. Then I was sent to clean out a Sixth House base and ended up being cursed with corprus disease. To find a cure I had to crawl through the dungeons of a mad Telvanni wizard, then when I got back I was attacked in my bed by a zombie and forcibly promoted to leader of the Emperor's Blades. I broke into the Ministry of Truth to rescue a Dissident Priest, and discovered a secret that could shake the Tribunal Temple to its foundations. Did I mention that I may well be the Nerevarine? _"It's… kind of a long story," I told him.

"There is time," he said, shrugging.

I decided not to mention Azura and her bet on the grounds that he wouldn't believe me, and the Dissident Priests business for obvious reasons. Instead I gave him a heavily-edited account of my mission to Ilunibi – I didn't mention anything about the Blades, only that the Legion had sent me there (which at least was technically true). Amazingly enough, he seemed a tad skeptical of my 'miracle cure' story.

"Are you sure of this, _sera_?" he asked doubtfully. "In my whole life, I have never heard of anyone recovering from corprus. Could it perhaps have been a less serious disease?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it was corprus," I said, and explained about my visit to Divayth Fyr.

Athyn listened carefully to my story, a neutral expression on his face. If he thought I was lying, he didn't show it. "Well, if this is true, it is hopeful news," he said at last, with a rather sad smile. "I have seen far too many lives destroyed by this disease."

I didn't tell him what Fyr had said about living forever, or the letter I'd been given by Dagoth Gares. He clearly found my tale unbelievable enough as it was, and what was more, I couldn't be sure whether he'd heard of the Nerevarine prophecies – the last thing I wanted was for him to start getting suspicious.

I asked if there were any more Redoran duties I could perform for him, and he nodded. "I believe there are smugglers operating near the coast in the cave of Shurinbaal. Before I send you to investigate, though, I must ask another favour of you."

"What is it?"

For the first time since I'd met him, Athyn looked slightly embarrassed. "I would like you to take my son with you."

_Ah_. "Varvur is my youngest child, and my only son," he continued. "He is a good son, but I believe my wife and I may have… over-indulged him a little. He needs some occupation that will give him a sense of purpose, and distract him from his grief over his friend's death. Would you be willing to help me?"

I didn't see any reason to refuse. Back when I worked for the Cyrodiil Fighters' Guild, middle-ranking members like me were often charged with taking care of the new recruits – a task we sarcastically referred to as 'babysitting'. On one particular job I'd even managed to end up with Vitellus Donton, the Guildmaster's son. _That_ was one heck of a nerve-racking mission, I can tell you.

"Of course," I said, mentally adding 'keep sponsor's son alive at all costs' to my list of mission objectives. "I take it he does know how to fight?"

Sarethi nodded. "He has training, but little experience. I hope he will not be a burden to you, but we must all begin somewhere."

We agreed that I should come back the next morning to collect Varvur before setting off for Shurinbaal, yet another cave near to Gnaar Mok (how had this wretched little village got to be such a hotbed of underworld activity?). Since I was going there anyway, I thought I might as well pop into Mallapi on the way and see if I could find any trace of Lirielle's brother. Athyn also told me that he suspected the smugglers had a contact in Ald'ruhn, and asked me to investigate.

I spent the rest of the day in Ald'ruhn before going out to spend the night at Buckmoth Legion Fort. The next day I returned to Sarethi Manor, where Varvur was waiting for me in his room. He wore a full set of bonemold armour and looked distinctly nervous.

"Kinsman," he murmured, giving me a weak smile. "It is good to see you again."

I smiled back, trying to put him at his ease. "Hello, Varvur. I don't think we were ever properly introduced. I'm Ada Ventura." I held out a hand, forgetting that it wasn't the custom among the Dunmer. He took it awkwardly and held it in both of his for a moment before letting it drop.

"I know. I will always remember what you did for me when I was in trouble." His face flushed slightly, and he lowered his eyes to my Legion cuirass. "You are a Legionnaire, then? I didn't realise."

"Yep. Knight Errant, as it happens." There was an awkward silence. "Okay, let's get down to business. What sort of weapon do you prefer to use?"

He shrugged. "I can fight with swords, or spears. Which is better?"

"Whichever you're best at," I told him. "Remember, this isn't a drill. These guys aren't going to go easy on you just because you've never done this before."

Varvur eventually chose a spear (I had to resist the temptation to ask whether he had an Argonian maidservant to polish it). He said goodbye to his father and his distraught-looking mother, who seemed one step away from flinging her arms around him and sobbing "My baby!", and then we set off – out through the gates of Ald'ruhn and down the long, boring, cliff racer-infested route to Gnaar Mok on the coast.

I tried to engage Varvur in conversation as we went along, but he didn't seem to have much to say for himself. I got the impression he was either very shy, or slightly in awe of me, or both. New recruits to the Guild would normally be ruthlessly mocked until they got over their shyness, but for once I held back – I'd no idea if Varvur was the type to run crying to Daddy if he thought I was being mean to him, but I wasn't going to risk it. Besides, in all honesty, I thought the poor kid had been through enough humiliation recently.

"Are you all right?" I asked eventually, when we stopped by the wayside to rest and eat.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I know I am not good company right now, but… I was thinking about my friend, Bralen Carvaren. I still feel as if this was all my fault."

"How was it your fault?" I asked. "Didn't the priest say that your mind was being affected by that ash statue?"

"But I should have realised! If I had only told someone about those dreams…" He clenched his fists. "But I didn't, and now my best friend is dead. I can never forgive myself."

Oh, boy. "Varvur, can I offer you some advice?" I said. "Don't waste time beating yourself up over it. It won't change what's happened and it won't help anyone, least of all you. I've been there, believe me."

He nodded wearily. "I know. My father says this as well…. but it is difficult."

"At least you had a good excuse," I pointed out. "I – I knew someone in Cyrodiil who killed a guy in a fight. She didn't have any excuse; she was just drunk. It was an accident, but she ended up being jailed for murder." I paused. "I guess… I'm saying it could be worse, that's all."

"You're right, of course." He gave me a rather strained smile. "Forgive me. I shouldn't be troubling you with my problems."

Neither of us said much else until our next rest stop just outside Gnaar Mok, when I decided it was time to set down some ground rules. "Okay, Varvur, listen up! Before we go hunting smugglers, there's a few rules you need to know about." I paused. "Tell me, have you ever actually killed anyone before? Er – in battle, I mean?" I added hastily, wanting to kick myself for my tactlessness.

Varvur hesitated slightly. "I have killed before… but only animals, on hunting trips. Not people."

"Okay, so at least you're not a complete beginner. Anyway, Ru/le Number 1: If we get into combat you do _exactly_ what I say, at once, without question. Got it?"

"Yes, Kinsman."

"Call me Ada," I said. "Rule Number 2: make sure you stay out of my way at all times. Don't go ahead of me unless I tell you to. Don't even _think_ about getting between me and an enemy I'm trying to fight." I winced reflexively. "This little Bosmer guy in the Fighters' Guild tried that once and nearly got his arm lopped off. _Don't_ be like him."

"No, _sera_ – Ada."

"Number 3: if I give you advice, remember it. I want you to think it over afterwards and include it in your practice sessions. Got it? Okay, let's go."

The small collection of rotting shacks on Gnaar Mok island looked even more dismal than I'd remembered. I didn't really want to talk to any of the locals, in case the smugglers had contacts in the village, but as I had no idea where Shurinbaal was I didn't have much choice. The first person I met was the same Wood Elf I'd spoken to on my last visit, still sitting hunched-up on the steps of his hut.

"Are you here to kill the breeding netch?" he asked, as I approached.

"Breeding netch?"

"There's a pair of them just north of here. We drove them off a few times, but I'm sure they'll be back unless someone does something." He scowled. "We've asked the Legion for help, but they keep saying it's 'not a priority'."

"I see," I said knowingly, disguising the fact that I didn't have a clue what a netch was or how to kill one. "Well, I might be able to help if you give me some information. I'm looking for two caves, Shurinbaal and Mallapi."

His expression didn't change. "Kill the netch, and then we'll talk."

Resisting the urge to swear at him, I turned away, and then suddenly a good idea struck me. "Okay, Varvur!" I said brightly, turning to my unfortunate lackey. "Time to show what you're made of. Think you can handle a breeding netch?"

"I will try," he said, shrugging. "It seems a shame to kill them, though. They are beautiful animals." The Bosmer just snorted.

We headed out across the narrow plank bridge, and walked slowly northwards until Varvur spotted one of the netch in the distance. I have to admit that my first instinct was to laugh: the thing could only be described as something like a giant floating jellyfish. I didn't see how it could possibly harm anyone, except by exploding and showering them with blue gunk.

"Go ahead," I said to Varvur, taking down my bow. "I'll stay back here and shoot it down if you get into trouble."

Spear at the ready, Varvur bravely advanced on the fearsome jellyfish. I watched as he neatly dodged under its dangling tentacles and thrust the spear several times into its underbelly, then ducked out of the way as it sank to the ground like a deflated balloon. "Not bad," I said approvingly, when he returned. "Okay, I'll tackle the next one."

I managed to shoot down the other netch before it could get anywhere near us. Knights in books got to fight dragons and monstrous sea-serpents, I thought; I got to fight giant jellyfish. Talk about embarrassing ways to die...

We returned to the village, where the Wood Elf thanked us for killing the netch. "Mallapi's north-east of here, and Shurinbaal's south-west on the coast," he told me. "I take it you know the place is crawling with smugglers? Well, it was nice knowing you."

It was getting dark now and starting to rain quite heavily, so Varvur and I wasted no time in looking for a place to sleep. I managed to guilt-trip the village shipmaster into letting us stay in the hold, where we spent a cramped, stuffy, uncomfortable night. I guessed that the smugglers probably did most of their business at night and slept during the day, so we waited until morning in the hope of catching them unawares. Unfortunately it seemed they'd already got wind of our arrival by then, as they were waiting for us.

The moment we entered the cave, we were rushed by two female smugglers in quick succession. The first was a hefty Redguard in bonemold armour, who carried a nasty-looking axe. Luckily she wasn't wearing any leg protection, and Varvur managed to stab her in the thigh with his spear before she could get close enough to attack us, while I tackled the other woman. The battle was quick but messy – I could only hope the shouts hadn't alerted other smugglers deeper into the caverns.

"Are you all right?" I asked Varvur, who was breathing heavily. It was hard to see in the dim light, but his face looked distinctly paler than usual.

"Yes. I – " He broke off. "I'm sorry, it is just… all that blood. For a moment it made me think of – of…"

Gods. I was sorry for him, truly I was, but at the same time I couldn't help feeling slightly exasperated – I hadn't realised that the job of tutoring Varvur would involve dealing with his guilt complex as well. To say that I wasn't qualified for this would be putting it mildly. I need a raise, I thought, and then remembered that I wasn't even getting paid for this mission.

"Okay, calm down. Deep breaths." I sheathed my sword and laid my hands on his shoulders. "Want to beat a retreat? I could try and take on the rest by myself if – "

"No! I promise you, I am fine." He was gripping his spear tightly. "It won't happen again. Let's move on."

I was still a bit wary, but finally decided to give him a chance. At least he wasn't fainting, or throwing up, or doing any of the other crazy things raw recruits tend to do.

In the end I was glad I did, because Varvur actually handled himself pretty well. He was nervous, of course, and made mistakes, but he held his nerve and obeyed instantly whenever I gave him an order. I couldn't teach him all that much about fighting with spears, not being very familiar with them myself, but he listened carefully to what I said and seemed to be taking it in.

After dealing with the rest of the guards as quickly and quietly as possible, we finally reached the heart of the caverns and came upon a storeroom blocked off by a wooden gate. There were two people inside; I couldn't see much of them but I could tell by their voices that they were a man and a woman. They were deep in conversation and didn't spot us.

"Do you still have your Chameleon amulet?" Varvur whispered.

I nodded – I always carried it around my neck these days, just in case. After casting the enchantment, I whispered some instructions to Varvur, then moved to stand just by the gate and motioned to Varvur to walk forward. The two smugglers leapt to their feet at the sound of footsteps and rushed to the gate, drawing their weapons. "What the hell…?"

The woman was the first to burst through the gate, and I'd cut her down before I even realised that she was wearing Legion uniform. At the same time Varvur moved forward to tackle her companion, who wore only light armour. The fight was over in seconds.

I bent over the woman's body, astonished and slightly upset to realise I'd killed a fellow Legionnaire. Had she been the smugglers' contact in Fort Buckmoth, then? Or was she just a deserter? "Shame we couldn't take her alive," I muttered. "She might have given us good information."

Varvur had knelt down beside the body to examine it more closely. "An Imperial soldier," he said in disgust. "I should have kno – "

He broke off quickly, but not quickly enough. "Care to repeat that, Varvur?" I said quietly.

"Forgive me." His face had flushed deep maroon. "Forgive me, Ada. I didn't mean – I spoke without thinking."

I took a deep breath, trying to control my temper. "Never mind," I said at last, through clenched teeth. "It's not the first time I've heard that, and it probably won't be the last. Come on."

I made to enter the storeroom, but he was blocking my way. "Surely you would not deny there is corruption in the Legions!"

"Well, of course there is! There's corruption everywhere, Varvur! You think everyone in House Redoran is completely honest and upright?" He was silent. "Oh, right, I forgot: you're Dunmer. Only us humans with our 'inferior blood' could possibly be corrupt."

Varvur's mouth fell open. "I- inferior _blood_? I have _never_ said this!" His eyes glittered with indignation. "Who has said this to you?"

Instantly I regretted bringing it up. "No one important," I mumbled. "Just… someone I thought was a friend, that's all."

"A Redoran?"

"No, not a Redoran." I lifted the dead Legionnaire's body and hauled it away from the door, shoving it into a corner. "Let's get going."

The room beyond turned out to be a veritable treasure trove. Crate after crate revealed piles of smuggled goods worth a fortune: gems, weapons, alcohol, skooma, enchanted jewellery. "We'd better not take any of this," I said, rather regretfully. "The Legion will want to take it in as evidence later on."

No matter how hard we searched, however, we couldn't find a single scrap of evidence connecting the smugglers to anyone in Ald'ruhn. "You could ask the Imperials at Fort Buckmoth," Varvur suggested. "They may have suspects." For now that seemed to be the only option.

We searched the rest of the caverns carefully in case anyone had managed to hide from us, but we didn't find anything. There was only one cave left unexplored, and this turned out to contain a deep, peaceful-looking natural pool. The smugglers had built a wooden walkway over it, with steps leading down into the water. "Might as well have a bath while we're here," I remarked to Varvur.

His eyes widened. "A _bath_?"

"Yes, a bath. Not _together_, of course!" I said impatiently. "We'll take it in turns."

He reddened. "I didn't mean – "

"That's OK." I slung my pack down on a crate and started to dig around in it. "Please don't tell me I forgot to bring shampoo…"

By now he was looking at me as if I were completely insane. "You bring _shampoo_ with you on a mission?"

"Well, yes, of course. What else would I use to wash my hair?" I was still hunting around for soap and shampoo, when I noticed that Varvur was staring fixedly at the water below.

"Ada," he said slowly. "I think… perhaps you should see this first."

I followed his gaze to the water, and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw what he was looking at. Just below the surface of the water, staring right up at us, was a large creature with the head and body of a human, but octopus-like tentacles in place of arms and legs. A dreugh.

"Okay… maybe I'll skip the bath for now," I said rather faintly. I didn't feel quite up to mud-wrestling a dreugh on top of everything else we'd done that day.

We left the cavern and went back to the village to rest, eat and clean ourselves up as best we could, before heading out to Mallapi. It took us quite a while to find the entrance out in the swamps surrounding Gnaar Mok. "What are we looking for here?" Varvur asked, as we stood before the small wooden gate.

"You know Lirielle Stoine at the Rat in the Pot?" He nodded. "I'm looking for her brother. He owes money to the Camonna Tong, and they're pestering her about it."

Varvur's face darkened. "The Camonna Tong? Lirielle never told me this. How did you find out?"

"Long story," I murmured, wishing I'd never agreed to take on this job. How was I supposed to explain why the local mobsters seemed to be using the Fighters' Guild to collect their debts? Especially when they supposedly hated everyone and everything associated with the Empire? One thing was certain: I needed to have a long talk about this with Percius Mercius at some point.

I didn't have much idea what we might find inside the cave, but one thing I certainly _hadn't_ expected to see was a scamp. The frost enchantment on my sword killed it pretty quickly, but it worried me to see Daedra here – if we ran into a more powerful one in such close quarters, we'd be in trouble. "I wonder how that got in here?" Varvur mused aloud.

"Could have been summoned by a conjurer." We exchanged glances. "Better watch our backs in here, I think."

I really wasn't enjoying the thought of tangling with a bunch of spellcasters, but in the end there was no need – we found Ruran Stoine's body, or what was left of it, in a pool of water near to the entrance. Clearly the poor guy hadn't had as much luck fighting the Daedra as we had. His corpse was in a pretty disgusting state after lying in a muddy puddle for months, and I nearly gagged at the smell as I reluctantly searched it for any treasure he might have been carrying. I did find an oilskin money pouch, but it only contained about 800 septims – far less than the 2,000 I needed.

"How will you find the rest of the money?" Varvur asked.

"I'll have to pay it myself, I guess."

He looked at me in surprise. "You would pay her debts for her?"

"I'll get most of it back anyway," I admitted. "Though I'm not sure I actually _have_ 1,200 drakes right now…"

Varvur hesitated. "Perhaps I could…"

"No! Don't even think about it, Varvur." I shook my head vehemently. "Lirielle won't take money from you, and neither will I. This is my job, not yours."

"But if you don't have the money – "

"I'll sort it out. Don't worry."

"You are kind," he said quietly. "And you have honour." I felt even worse.

We emerged from the cave to find that a raging storm had blown up. There was no way we could walk back to Ald'ruhn in these conditions, so we had to spend another night on board that horrible boat. By the next morning I was really wishing I'd taken the opportunity to have a bath, even if it would have meant fighting off a dreugh first.

We began the journey back to Ald'ruhn after breakfast. Varvur was rather more talkative now that we knew each other better – I noticed that his Tamrielic seemed more fluent as well – and we chatted about various things along the way. Unfortunately, at one point the conversation somehow drifted onto the subject of slavery. Varvur was brave enough – or foolish enough – to admit that he disapproved of abolitionists, and the discussion went sharply downhill from there.

Looking back, I really ought to have known better than to argue about this with a Dunmer, but I couldn't help it – that particular topic is like a red rag to a bull for me. "How can you do it?" I asked at last. "How can you look a Khajiit or Argonian in the face and tell them that it's all right for their people to be enslaved?"

"You don't understand." Varvur looked frustrated. "Of course I would like to see slavery abolished – many Dunmer would. But… it must be the Dunmer people who decide this, not the Imperials. After all, it is _our_ country."

"And until that happens?" I demanded. "We're just supposed to stand there and watch people being treated like animals, are we?"

"You have no _right_ to interfere! In Morrowind we believe necromancy is evil beyond words, but we don't invade Cyrodiil to stop your necromancers from tormenting the spirits of their ancestors. You Imperials seem to think that – "

I hated that expression. "Stop saying 'you Imperials'! We're not a bloody hive mind!"

"All right then, most – _some_ Imperials seem to think that we are barely more than savages." He heaved an exasperated sigh. "You may rule Tamriel now, but Morrowind was a great nation before Western men were even civilised. Sometimes… sometimes it makes us impatient to hear Imperials preach to us of civilisation."

"Well, I don't see how kidnapping people from their homes and locking them up and selling them on like livestock can be described as 'civilised'," I muttered, without looking at him. He didn't answer.

We walked on in stony silence, right up until we were almost in sight of Ald'ruhn, when I paused to drink some water in the shade of a giant boulder. As I shoved the canteen back into my pack, Varvur shyly laid a hand on my arm.

"Ada?" he said softly. "I apologise for the way I spoke to you earlier. I forgot that you are my superior in the House and I should show you respect, even if – if I don't agree with what you say. I'm very sorry."

All of a sudden I felt incredibly guilty. This was the second time in two days that I'd blown up at Varvur over something relatively trivial. My behaviour had been at least as bad as his, and I was supposed to be the leader here. No wonder if he hadn't shown me proper respect; it wasn't like I'd done anything to deserve it.

"I'm the one who should apologise," I said. "I've been a complete bitch this last couple of days, and – well, I don't really have any excuse. I'm sorry too."

"There is no need. I was the one at fault."

"No, really, I – " I broke off. "Look, if we don't stop apologising now we'll be at it all night."

"You are not angry with me?"

"Honestly, Varvur, it's fine. You Redorans need to lighten up a bit," I said, with a wink.

"'Lighten up'?"

"Take things less seriously, I mean."

"Ah." A cautious smile hovered around his lips. "Is that an order, Kinsman?"

I grinned. "See? You're getting the hang of it already."

We walked on, Ald'ruhn looming large in the distance. "So you really don't believe humans are inferior?" I said at last, only half-jokingly.

"Of course not," he said, looking shocked. "My father would never have allowed me to believe such a thing. He always says that he owes his life to a human."

"Really?"

Varvur nodded. "He grew up among humans, in Hammerfell. He was sent there for his education. Have you not read the book _The Hope of the Redoran_?"

"I haven't," I admitted. So Athyn had been educated in the West, had he? That would certainly explain a lot.

As we parted at the gates of Ald'ruhn, I was starting to realise just how hypocritical I'd been. Wasn't I showing as much prejudice as Mehra Milo, by judging all Dunmer on the basis of one person's comment? As I walked towards Fort Buckmoth, where I planned to spend the night, I wondered if perhaps I ought to make that visit to the Urshilaku after all. At the very least, it couldn't hurt to try.


	23. Chapter 23: Humble Pie

**Chapter 23: Humble Pie**

Just outside Ald'ruhn, en route to Fort Buckmoth, I came across a Dunmer man standing in the road. He was barefoot, dressed in nothing but pants despite the cold weather, and had a faraway expression on his face as if he was daydreaming about something. While he didn't seem to be in distress, I couldn't help wondering what the heck he was doing out here on such a chilly evening.

"Are you okay?" I asked, walking up to him. "Need any help?"

He fixed me with an icy stare. "You have betrayed Lord Dagoth. Taste his vengeance."

Talos, not this again! "Who are you?" I asked sharply. "Are you following me?"

"We have you in our discerning eye, Ada Ventura." The expressionless tone of his voice made his words even more creepy. "We see you, waking and sleeping."

Okay, this was getting beyond a joke. "Well, you can just take your 'discerning eye' off me," I snarled. "Get away from here, and _stay_ away, or I'll have you arrested. Got it?"

He didn't move. Sighing in exasperation, I wheeled round and stomped off in the direction of Fort Buckmoth. Maybe I could ask the guards to – hang on, I could _order_ them, couldn't I?

"You two!" I barked at the two Legionnaires who stood guard by the entrance of the fort. They saluted smartly. "There's a guy wandering around half-naked just outside of Ald'ruhn, babbling on about Lord Dagoth. Know anything about him?"

The two men exchanged glances. "Sounds like one of the Dreamers, ma'am," one of them replied. "They've been showing up outside towns and cities all over Vvardenfell. They don't do much, just wander about and talk about how they 'dream dreams' of the 'Sixth House'."

"Okay," I said, sighing. "Well, make sure you keep an eye on him. You never know when he might turn nasty." They saluted again, and I went on into the fort.

The commander of Buckmoth fort was a Nord woman named Imsin the Dreamer (no relation, presumably). When I told her about the Legion soldier I'd killed in Shurinbaal, she confirmed that it was a deserter, Eponis Vinipter. "I believe a man named Drinar Varyon is the smugglers' contact in Ald'ruhn," she told me. "He claims to be studying local pottery techniques, but I'm sure he has Dwemer artifacts hidden somewhere in his house."

"Is there any way I can help?" I asked.

She nodded. "I hate to ask you to break the law, but we need evidence to convict him. Go to his place in Ald'ruhn and bring me any Dwemer artifacts you find inside."

I was much too tired to tackle any more smugglers that day, so I took a long-overdue bath and ate a hearty meal, before settling in for my first good night's sleep in three days. The next morning I bought a Divine Intervention spell from one of the Imperial Cult priests, thinking I'd probably need it now that I was forced to spend most nights out in Legion forts. It was no easier to cast than Almsivi Intervention, but no more difficult either – and at least it would allow me to avoid these 'Dreamers' as much as possible.

Having learned the spell, I needed to decide which of my current jobs to tackle first. Varvur would have told his father about Shurinbaal, so that was all right. I eventually decided that Lirielle's problem was the most urgent, but I still wasn't sure where I was going to get the rest of the money – I _might_ just about have that much in my account, but I wasn't keen to dip into my savings to pay off the Camonna Tong. However, thinking about the bank account suddenly gave me a good idea.

I returned to Ald'ruhn and took the Guild Guide to Vivec, where I went to see the manager at the Bank of Vvardenfell. "I'd like to withdraw 200 drakes," I told him. "Also, I have a rather… _unusual_ request."

"Yes?"

"I'd like to take out a loan for 1,000 septims. Only," I continued, "I can pay it back again within the hour."

He hesitated. "You have my ring," I reminded him.

The manager pursed his lips. It was obvious that he _wanted_ to ask me all sorts of things, but wasn't sure whether he would like the answers. Finally he got up, went to a cupboard, counted out some money into a purse, and handed it over to me without saying a word. I got the feeling that ours was going to be a 'no questions asked' sort of relationship.

I went to the Fighters' Guild, paid over the 2,000 drakes to Lorbumol gro-Aglakh, received 1,000 back as a fee, and returned to the bank in just under a quarter of an hour. "Don't ask," I said to the manager. He didn't ask.

My next stop was in Balmora, where I tried out my Divine Intervention spell to get to Fort Moonmoth. Apparently the commander here, Radd Hard-Heart, was the one in charge of the Breeding Netch Elimination Programme for Gnaar Mok. I got a mild shock when I realised that he was the guy who'd caught me with Dwemer artifacts from Arkngthand, but it was nothing compared to his shock when he recognised me and saw my Templar Knight uniform.

He took it in good part, laughing heartily when I explained how I'd risen from raw recruit to Knight Errant in less than two months. "Who'd have thought it?" he guffawed. "So you've dealt with the breeding netch, have you? Good work. Want another assignment while you're here?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to take on anything else right now. "I would, sir, but I'm rather busy – "

"Well, if you have time, we need someone to go to Arkngthand and collect scrap metal."

Surely he wasn't serious. "_Scrap metal_, sir?"

"The Ordinators have challenged us to a hunt," he explained. "They claim they'll bring in the skin of a Corprus beast. We plan to do them one better by bringing the scrap metal from a Dwemer centurion."

I was starting to wonder if the Legion brass ever did any actual soldiering, or if they spent their entire time getting into pissing contests with the local forces. "I'm investigating smugglers in Ald'ruhn for Imsin the Dreamer, sir. I'm very sorry."

"Hmph. Well, when you're finished with that you could go looking for that fool Jocien Ancois." His eyes narrowed. "He's been trying to teach the Erabenimsun Ashlanders of Imperial culture and virtue, but apparently some of them don't appreciate his efforts. Can't imagine why."

I had to hide a smile. Hard-Heart might be a Legionnaire, but he was very much a Nord, and I wondered if he'd been on the receiving end of some of Jocien Ancois' lectures. When he marked the Erabenimsun camp on my map I realised that it was right in the middle of Molag Mar, miles away from anything resembling civilisation. I promised to look into it if I was ever in the area (and if I ever worked out how to pronounce 'Erabenimsun' without stuttering).

A couple of teleports later I was back in Ald'ruhn, where I went to the Rat in the Pot to tell Lirielle her debt problem was sorted. She took the news of her brother's death as well as could be expected, without any histrionics.

"Thank you for taking care of his debt," she said quietly, when I'd explained everything to her. "I do miss him, fool that he was."

Now that I'd got that over with, all there was left to do was work out how to get evidence from Drinar Varyon's house. Imsin had made it pretty clear that she didn't mind me going outside the bounds of the law for this mission, but I decided to start by paying Drinar a visit and scouting out the place. Even I had the sense to realise that knocking at his door in full Legion uniform would be a bad idea, so I stored my gear at the Fighter's Guild before walking to Varyon's house. I just hoped he wouldn't recognise me.

Varyon was an 'artsy'-looking type with several piercings in his large, pointed ears. For someone who didn't appear to be wealthy or influential, he certainly seemed pretty full of himself. "What do you want?" he said haughtily, as soon as I entered the house. "I am Drinar Varyon, of the famous Varyon family."

"Varyon family?" I asked innocently.

He frowned. "Surely even a foreigner has heard of the Varyon family?"

"I'm afraid not," I said. "Have you heard of the Ventura family?"

"No."

"Well then."

Varyon's frown deepened. "Well, I do not want to waste my time educating you. I am only here to study local pottery techniques."

I told him that I was looking to buy a redware vase as a gift for one of my friends. While he worked at his pottery wheel (ignoring me completely), I pretended to look at samples of his work, but actually I was scanning the room to try and work out where he could have hidden smuggled goods. There were a good number of crates and chests in the place, but I didn't dare look into any of them with Varyon around. I'd have to come back later on… when he wasn't there.

Over dinner I tried to come up with a plan to break into Drinar's house. I'd have to be very careful – the Legion might be willing to overlook a spot of breaking and entering, but the local Redoran guards probably wouldn't. I was just wondering what sort of clothes to wear for a task like this, when I suddenly remembered the black garments which Caius had left to me. I really didn't fancy trying on anything that Caius had worn, but on inspecting the clothes I found that they were thoroughly clean – and, more importantly, enchanted with spells that would improve my sneaking skills.

Just after midnight, I put on my slightly-too-loose clothes and used Almsivi Intervention to teleport from Fort Buckmoth to the Ald'ruhn temple. I made my way to Varyon's house, hiding in the shadows to avoid the guards, and cast an unlocking spell to open the door while no one was looking. Luckily there were still lights burning in the house, though Drinar seemed to be asleep in the room downstairs.

I carefully began to search the house for evidence, praying that Varyon wouldn't wake up and hear me. There was nothing of interest in the crates – only food and other provisions. The chests looked more interesting, but unfortunately the locks were simply too tough to pick or break, even with an Ondusi's Unhinging scroll.

Frustrated, I looked around for anything else that I could use as evidence. I was just about to give up, when suddenly I noticed something glinting among the rows of pots and vases on the table – ones which Drinar had told me were not for sale. Looking closely, I saw that it was a small glass tube, of the kind I'd occasionally seen in Dwemer ruins.

That was when it hit me: Varyon was storing the larger goods in his chests and baking the smaller ones, such as coins and these little tubes, into his own pottery. Smart – but not smart enough to fool Ada Ventura, Legion Investigator.

I was busy congratulating myself on my cleverness when I suddenly realised that I'd forgotten to bring a spell to re-lock the door. Damn! I'd have to act quickly, or Drinar would find the door unlocked the next morning and work out what had happened.

I teleported back to Fort Buckmoth – by this point I was using so many magicka restoration potions that I was in serious danger of getting addicted – and quickly explained the situation to the Champion Raesa Pullia, who was on duty that night. She listened carefully and promised to take care of everything.

The next morning, Imsin the Dreamer took me aside and quietly told me that Drinar Varyon had been arrested for smuggling during the night. She rewarded me by promoting me to Knight Bachelor – just one rank below her own. If I wasn't careful, I'd end up in charge of a fort myself.

Now we came to the part I'd really been dreading: having to return to the Urshilaku camp. If I'd realised I'd have to go back again, I might not have capped off my last visit by throwing a tantrum and insulting their revered wise woman. It didn't help that the more I thought back on that conversation, the more I could see that I really had been unforgivably rude to her. I was going to have to do some serious grovelling to get back into her good books.

What was more, I _really_ wasn't looking forward to yet another trip up the Foyada Bani-Dad. "I wish there were some kind of spell you could use to set a teleport point anywhere you wanted," I complained to Edwinna Elbert at the Mages' Guild. "Like a portable Guild Guide spell."

Her brow furrowed. "Something like a Mark and Recall spell, you mean?"

When I'd finished swearing, she told me that these spells – which I'd never heard of before, of course – were sold by a mage called Sirilonwe in Vivec. "While you're there, I have a task for you," Edwinna said airily. "Sirilonwe has somehow acquired a copy of _Chimarvamidium_, one of Marobar Sul's 'Ancient Tales of the Dwemer'. She is trying to keep it secret, but I must have that book."

"Are you saying you want me to _steal_ it?"

"Not _steal_!" she protested. "I prefer the word 'borrow'. I will return it later, of course." I hesitated. "Don't think of it as breaking your oath to the Guild, Ada – think of it as a small favour, for the advancement of the art and science of magic."

I didn't give a stuff about 'the art and science of magic', but I was well aware that Edwinna could easily kick me out of the Guild if I refused – meaning no more free potions. So, with extreme reluctance, I agreed to 'borrow' the book from Sirilonwe. While the High Elf mage was writing up the instructions for the Mark and Recall spells, I hunted around in her room and found the book in a locked chest. I just had time to pick the lock and stuff the book into my bag before hurrying back to Sirilonwe, hoping I'd be far away by the time she noticed the book was missing.

I brought Edwinna her precious _Chimarvamidium_, then bought a copy of _The Hope of The Redoran_ to amuse myself on the journey to Maar Gan. I read it with great interest – it seemed that Athyn Sarethi had once fought his own cousin in a duel to the death, dressed as a barbarian, and armed with nothing more than a wooden club. I must say I found it hard to imagine staid, sensible Athyn doing anything like that. It made me wish I'd known him in his younger, very-slightly-wilder days.

The walk from Maar Gan to the Urshilaku camp was the usual mixture of boredom and nail-biting terror whenever I spotted a cliff racer in the distance. As soon as I arrived at the camp I attempted to cast the Mark spell, hoping I'd never have to make that journey again. Unfortunately it was more difficult to cast than I'd thought, and I quickly found myself running out of magicka.

Before too long, a crowd of Ashlanders had gathered to watch my feeble attempts at casting a simple Mysticism spell. There were sniggers, and several loud comments in the Ashlander language, which was too far removed from normal Dunmeris for me to understand. Just as I was about to burn up with embarrassment, a young girl – she couldn't have been more than about fifteen or sixteen – broke away from the group and shyly approached me.

"You cast travel spell, Clanfriend?" she asked in broken Tamrielic. "With the hands, like _this_."

I watched as my teenage tutor demonstrated the correct hand gestures, and attempted to copy her. After two or three more tries, I _finally_ managed to cast the spell. There was an ironic round of applause from the watching Ashlanders.

"Thank you," I said to the girl. She nodded and ran back to her gaggle of friends, who collapsed into giggles. I suspected it would be an uphill battle to persuade these guys that I was the Nerevarine.

But even this humilation was a picnic compared to my second meeting with Nibani Maesa. When I entered the tent her brows instantly shot up, and she gave me a look that could have frozen lava. "So you have returned, outlander," she said stiffly. "Have you come to insult me and my tribe once more, or have you learned some courtesy in the weeks since our last meeting?"

"Nibani, I'm truly sorry," I said, throwing up my hands. "My behaviour was absolutely appalling, and I know it. You welcomed me here as a guest and I just threw that back in your face. I can't apologise enough." She said nothing. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? A favour, a gift… anything?"

There was a long silence. I was just debating whether falling to my knees would be a bit _too_ melodramatic, when Nibani finally spoke. "Fine words, outlander, but it is your deeds that will truly speak for you. Prove that you have the interests of our tribe at heart, and I will believe you are sincere."

"What do you want me to do?"

She shrugged. "That is your affair. Perform a service to the tribe, or someone in the tribe, and then return to me."

I left the tent even more at a loss than before. What the heck was I supposed to do to help the Urshilaku? In the end I resorted to stopping random people and asking them if I could perform a service for them. Finally one of them told me to talk to Kurapli, the trader.

Kurapli was a young woman with a look of deep sadness in her eyes. When I spoke to her, she asked if I could assist her with a matter of personal vengeance. It seemed that her husband Airan-Ahhe had recently been murdered by Zallay Subaddamael, an outcast Ashlander.

"Zallay betrayed Urshilaku hospitality and killed my husband," she said. "If you could find him, kill him, and bring the justice of his death to me, I can promise you a fine reward – my dead husband's enchanted Spirit Spear. It is a great treasure, but I would be glad if it might purchase the vengeance that would set my husband's spirit to rest."

I didn't even _want_ an enchanted spear, but this sounded like the kind of thing that might please Nibani Maesa. "Where can I find Zallay?" I asked.

"I have heard that he has taken refuge in a place called Aharasaplit on the island of Sheogorad, the large island north of Vvardenfell," she said. "You might find information in the fishing village of Dagon Fel."

I had to suppress a groan. Not Dagon Fel again! Of course it made sense that a fugitive Ashlander would go as far away as possible, but couldn't he at least have stuck to Vvardenfell island?

After studying my map carefully, I decided that it would be quicker to walk from the camp to Dagon Fel than to return to Khuul, the nearest settlement, and take a ship. But I'd reckoned without the thick fog that descended soon after I began my journey, making it far slower going than I'd expected. To make things worse, the place was crawling with blighted animals, including several massive black beetles (I later found out they were called 'shalk') which attacked with fire magicka when they got close. I didn't dare to stop and rest in case they attacked me while I slept.

By the time I reached the crossing point, where a chain of small islands led over the water to Sheogorad, it was getting dark and I had no magicka left for Water Walking spells. I spent a cold, miserable night curled up under an overhanging rock, constantly jolted awake by the screech of a cliff racer or the growl of an animal in the distance. When dawn came and the fog lifted, it took nearly half an hour for the stiffness to leave my arms, legs and hands.

But when I crossed the water, I had an unexpected stroke of luck. I came ashore on the southern coast of Sheogorad, and immediately spotted a group of tents pitched a little way down the beach. They looked very much like the yurts I'd seen in Ashlander camps.

I cautiously approached one of the tattooed, weather-beaten men milling about outside the tents. "Is this Aharasaplit Camp, by any chance?" I asked, hoping he'd understand me.

He nodded. "Is there a man named Zallay Subaddamael here?"

The man jerked his thumb towards the largest of the tents and turned away. Shrugging, I entered the yurt and found myself facing another man dressed in Ashlander garb. "Zallay Subaddamael?"

"What do you want?"

"I'm here on behalf of an Urshilaku woman called Kurapli," I said. "She tells me you murdered her husband."

I'd expected him to try and defend himself. For all I knew there could be all sorts of extenuating circumstances, and I didn't want to kill him just on Kurapli's say-so. But he just shrugged and nodded.

"No excuses?" I asked. "No explanation for why you killed this guy?" He shook his head. "Well, in that case… I guess I'll have to challenge you to a duel on Kurapli's behalf."

I must confess to being a bit surprised when Zallay emerged from his tent holding a claymore – a fairly poor-quality one, made of iron, but still a fearsome weapon. It still wasn't really a fair fight, given that Zallay didn't wear any armour, but it was more difficult than I expected. I'd worried that the other men might be drawn into the fight, but they didn't seem to care in the slightest, even when their 'friend' lay bleeding to death on the ground. I thought I'd become de-sensitised to killing over the years, but this was just creepy.

As soon as I was sure Zallay was dead, I walked away from the yurts and cast the Recall spell to the Urshilaku camp. "Zallay Subaddamael is dead," I told Kurapli, realising too late that I didn't actually have any proof of this.

But Kurapli seemed prepared to take it on trust. "I thank you, and do you honour, Clanfriend," she said, and took up one of the spears that lay against the wall of the yurt. "I have long kept Airan-Ahhe's spear. He no longer has any use for it. It is with pride that I pass it on to you, and ask only that you remember his name when you use it."

I wasn't sure what to say. The spear was quite short and light, but it had some useful enchantments on it, and looked valuable. It didn't seem right to take it when I'd only really done this to curry favour with Nibani, and I never even fought with spears anyway. I would have refused it if I hadn't remembered how seriously the Ashlanders took their gift-giving customs.

"Are you sure you can afford to part with this, Kurapli?" I asked softly. She nodded. "Well, thank you. It's beautiful… and I promise I'll remember your husband's name."

By the time I got back to Nibani Maesa, I was feeling distinctly humbled. "So you have avenged Airan-Ahhe's death," she said, when I explained everything to her. "Very well, you have shown that you are a friend to our tribe. I assume you came here to seek my help? Have you found the Lost Prophecies?"

I nodded, and was about to hand them over to her when I remembered that she couldn't read. Instead I had to read them out to her – over and over again, until she'd learned them off by heart – and then explain how I'd been cured of Corprus, fulfilling the second of the 'Seven Visions'. I have to admit, I was impressed by how calmly she took the news that the Nerevarine was an outlander – most religious cults would have been screaming blue murder at that kind of 're-interpretation' of their doctrine. My respect for the Urshilaku had just increased by several notches.

"You must leave me," Nibani said at last, when I timidly asked what she thought of the new prophecies. "Hunt, sleep, train, feed, learn the land. I must place these things before my ancestors, and listen to them, and to the skies and stars of my dreams. And then, when the moons have come and gone, return, and I will give you my judgement."

I was very happy to delay the fatal decision a bit longer, but unfortunately I had no idea what she meant by 'when the moons have come and gone' – and I was too embarrassed to ask. A day? A month? I decided to split the difference and give it a week.

For all the Ashlanders' kindness, it was still a massive relief to get back to the relative civilisation of Redoran territory. When I finally arrived back in Ald'ruhn by silt strider, it felt almost like coming home. I pondered what to do with Airan-Ahhe's spear and eventually took it to Athyn Sarethi, hoping he might keep it for me.

"Why didn't you return here with my son?" he asked, when we'd exchanged greetings. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of the smuggling operation."

"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly realising how rude it must have seemed. "I had… other business for the Legion."

Athyn nodded. "I heard about Drinar Varyon's arrest. I must congratulate you, _sera_. If you wish it, I will promote you to the rank of House Cousin."

"Really? Well, that's – " I broke off. "Er… is there any reason I _wouldn't_ wish it?"

He looked solemn. "I will tell you what I told Neminda, and all the other outlanders I have sponsored. Most Redorans will welcome you into the House, or at least not object, but there are some – including our Archmaster – who very much dislike seeing outlanders in the higher ranks. I am not saying he would directly oppose you, but if you rise much further you may attract… unwanted attention. That is all."

Well, that did it. I didn't even want the promotion that much, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let Venim scare me off. "I'm not afraid of him," I said defiantly. "I've earned my rank. If it bothers Venim, that's his problem."

"As you wish. I very much hope that you will not regret it."

"Will _you_ regret it, Athyn?" I asked.

"No, I don't believe so." His expression was rather grim. "After you rescued my son, I called an emergency meeting of the Council, where certain matters were… discussed. I do not think there will be any more attacks on me, or my family."

"So it _was_ him sending the assassins?"

He shrugged. "I have no proof, but…" From the expression on his face, it was clear that he didn't need any.

"What a coward," I said in disgust. "He doesn't dare attack you himself, so he sends other people to do his dirty work."

Athyn shook his head. "No, Bolvyn is not a coward. He would love to challenge me openly, but he lacks a pretext."

I wondered what on Nirn could have happened to cause such hatred between the two of them. Not that Athyn actually seemed to hate Venim; in fact, he was almost exasperatingly fair and reasonable towards him. Honestly, people who write books with titles like _The True Noble's Code_ aren't supposed to _live up to it_. They're supposed to get caught fiddling their taxes, or cheating on their spouse with someone half their age, so that the rest of us can laugh at their hypocrisy and feel better about ourselves.

When I asked Athyn about the spear, he suggested I take it to Varvur, who was training in the Council halls. On the way there I stopped to talk to Neminda, whom I hadn't seen in over a month.

"Yes, Varvur's in there," she told me. "Training very hard from what I see." She winked. "Looks to me like he's trying to impress someone."

I found Varvur practising sword-fighting techniques with one of the drillmasters. He certainly looked like he'd been working hard – he was drenched in sweat, and his spiky hair had gone a bit floppy. It looked rather cute, actually.

"Ada!" he exclaimed, breaking off from the fight when he saw me. "It's good to see you again."

"You too," I said. "Are you working out for something?"

"Yes, I believe I will soon be sent out on another mission. With a partner, of course." He reddened slightly. "I… was hoping it might be you."

I was genuinely flattered. I hadn't thought he'd want anything more to do with me after our last mission. "I didn't do enough to scare you off last time, then?"

Varvur laughed. "Most Redorans I know would have been much harsher with me! You are a good fighter, and… I like you." He turned away with an embarrassed cough. "Would you like to practise duelling with me?"

I wasn't wearing armour, but I fought a friendly duel with Varvur while the drillmaster was attending to his other pupils. He was a tougher opponent than I'd expected, and suddenly I realised why: I might have more practical experience, but he'd been in training for much longer, probably since early childhood. My parents hadn't even let me take archery lessons until I reached my teens. I couldn't help feeling just a teeny bit jealous.

After that we fought a bout with spears instead of swords, and this time Varvur managed to win fairly handily. "That's a beautiful spear," he said afterwards. "Where did you get it from?"

"An Ashlander woman gave it to me to thank me for avenging her husband's murder."

"An Ashlander woman! Are you serious?" I nodded. "But how did you come to meet her?"

"Well, I travel around quite a bit," I said, as casually as possible. "I've visited the Urshilaku camp a few times."

Varvur was shaking his head. "You are a strange person, Ada. I have lived here all my life, and yet I've hardly ever even met an Ashlander. But you seem to know everyone. Next you will be telling me you've made friends with one of the Telvanni wizards."

"Well, as it happens…"

"_Surely_ you are joking now!"

I just smiled enigmatically, but inside I was getting worried. How long would it be before people started asking serious questions about my trips out to the Ashland regions? With the high profile I seemed to be developing in both the Legion and House Redoran, I'd have to start watching my back.


	24. Chapter 24: The Madness Of Lord Mandas

**Chapter 24: The Madness Of Lord Mandas**

Varvur's hopes weren't disappointed. When I talked to his father the next day, he told me that the priest Lloros Sarano had a mission for me, and that he'd like me to take Varvur along as well. The two of us set off for the Temple to find out what Lloros had in store for us.

Just as we were about to leave the manor, a young Bosmer woman of about Varvur's age walked in through the door. She was stunningly beautiful, with a mass of long blond hair, and wearing a gown which I couldn't have afforded if I'd saved up for a year. The moment Varvur saw her he coloured and mumbled a rather awkward greeting, which she returned, looking equally embarrassed. Hmm, I thought.

"So who's Blondie?" I asked with a wink, once we were outside the door.

Varvur flushed even redder, avoiding my eyes. "Her name is Aeronwen. She's another of the outlanders my father sponsors in the House."

"She's very pretty," I said, stating the obvious.

"Yes, she is." He clearly didn't want to talk about this any more, so I let it go.

We walked over to the Temple, where Lloros Sarano briefed us on our next mission. It seemed that some Redoran soldiers had been sent to a derelict stronghold called Andasreth, where Lloros believed some bandits were hiding out, and hadn't come back. Andasreth was a long way out west, near to Gnaar Mok (of course). It would take another day of walking to get there.

Though I didn't mention it to Varvur, I couldn't help noticing something a little strange about this mission. According to Lloros, _four_ soldiers had left for Andasreth and failed to return… and he was sending _two_ of us to chase them up. Either he had a whole lot of confidence in my abilities, or he just hadn't thought this through very well.

Lloros had made it clear there was no time to lose in finding the missing Redorans, so we set out right away from the west gate of Ald'ruhn. Once again, Varvur didn't seem very much inclined to talk. "Are you still thinking about your friend?" I asked at last.

He shrugged. "Not exactly. But we did once make a hunting expedition on this route, with some of the other Redorans my own age. It's hard not to think about it whenever we walk down here."

"You two must have been very close," I said softly.

"We grew up together. We were more like brothers than friends." He was silent for a few moments. "Bralen's family were kin of the Venims. Venim didn't care about him at all, but that was his excuse for arresting me after Bralen died. He called it 'private justice'." His knuckles were white.

"Venim didn't treat you badly, did he?"

"No, but it was… humiliating. To be dragged to his manor and locked up… and then I found out he had sent assassins to kill my father while I was gone." Varvur ground his teeth. "I only wish I had the strength to fight him. My father might, but I don't."

I hesitated. "Varvur, could I ask you a question? Why do Venim and your father hate each other so much?"

"My father doesn't hate Venim," he retorted. "Venim hates _him_ because he sees him as a threat. If he were to challenge Bolvyn for the title of Archmaster, everyone else on the Council would support him."

"So… no offence, but why _doesn't_ he? I mean, it seems pretty obvious to me that he'd make a better Archmaster…"

"I don't know! He claims that it would damage the House, but in truth I think that he simply does not want to be Archmaster." Varvur stopped walking. "If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"Of course."

"Very well: A few months ago, the other Councillors invited my father to a secret meeting at Garisa Llethri's house. They asked him to challenge Venim, and told him that they would all support him as Archmaster."

"So how do you about know this?"

"I heard about it from Garisa's son Sanvyn. Anyway, my father refused outright. In fact, he was quite angry that they had planned this without consulting him." He drew a deep breath. "But Venim found out, and he was furious. Just a few weeks after that, the Morag Tong attacks started."

Good grief. If I'd known half of what was going on in House Redoran before I joined, I'd have run a mile. "How do you think Venim found out?" I asked.

Varvur laughed shortly. "_That_ is no secret. Everyone knows that he and Llethri's wife Fathasa are lovers."

"Watch out there, Varvur," I protested. "Your father made me challenge a Hlaalu noble to a duel for spreading that rumour."

"Well, he should not have done! Let Venim send his own retainers if he wants to defend himself!" He turned sharply away and stomped off down the road, leaving me hurrying to catch up with him.

When we finally came within sight of Andasreth, I could see why the ancient Dunmer had chosen this place to build a stronghold. It was built on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by high mountains, and only reachable by walking straight down a bare, featureless valley. We were too far away to see anyone standing on the building itself, but I guessed that the bandits would probably have lookouts posted. Our only hope was to attack under cover of darkness.

Varvur and I retreated a little way and set up camp, where we ate and took it in turns to sleep while waiting for it to get dark. We finally set off for Andasreth at around midnight. When we got close to the building, I slipped on the Chameleon ring which Larrius Varro, the Fort Moonmoth champion, had given to me. The enchantment wasn't strong enough to be much use in the day, but at night it worked perfectly.

I crept up the steps leading to the main building and pressed myself against the wall, listening carefully. I could hear footsteps up on the roof above, so I guessed that a guard was patrolling up there. As soon as I heard the footsteps recede in the other direction, I beckoned to Varvur, who hurried up to join me as quickly and quietly as possible.

Inside the stronghold, it soon became clear what had happened to the Redoran party that came before us. We were quickly set upon by several roughly-dressed men and women – some armed with swords or daggers, others with Destruction spells. Any hope I'd had of finding the soldiers alive quickly faded, and vanished completely when we uncovered four decomposing bodies in a locked room.

Varvur entered the room first, and rushed forward with a cry of dismay. The corpses, still clad in bonemold armour, seemed to have been dumped in here as food for the rats that scampered around the room. From the position of the bodies, and the horrified grimaces frozen on the dead men's faces, it was clear that some of them had still been alive when they were thrown in here to bleed to death. Clearly these bandits weren't in the habit of taking prisoners.

"They murdered them." Varvur's face was pale with rage. "They just threw them in here to die like… like animals."

"I'm sorry, Varvur." I laid a hand on his arm. He didn't reply, but muttered something under his breath in Dunmeris that sounded like a prayer.

There was silence for a few moments. "What should we do with them?" I said at last.

"We must take their shields back to Lloros Sarano." He knelt down beside one of the men and carefully lifted up his bonemold tower shield, which was engraved with a picture of an insect – the Redoran symbol.

"Just the shields?"

"They are the symbol of our House," he explained. "Bringing back the shields will show that these men died honourably, in battle. Their families will come later to take away their bodies for burial."

"So, shall we leave now?" I asked. "Or do you want to finish off the rest of these bastards first?" The look on his face was quite enough of an answer.

When the rest of the bandits had been killed, or knocked out and tied up – then dumped in the room with the dead Redorans – Varvur and I made to leave. Both of us were tired, but not tired enough to bed down in Andasreth with a bunch of rotting corpses. Unfortunately, even with my extra strength from my enchanted gauntlets, there was no way I could carry two of the Redoran banner shields as well as my own. An Almsivi Intervention spell would have taken me straight back to the Ald'ruhn Temple, but I'd used up most of my magicka on healing spells.

"I'll just have to leave it here, I suppose," I said eventually. I had to stifle a groan at the thought of being forced to walk out here _yet again_ to collect the shield. Maybe I should just buy a house in bloody Gnaar Mok.

"Will your commanders be angry?"

"I don't know." Certainly I doubted they'd react well to me marching in and demanding a new shield because I'd lost the old one.

I carefully cleaned my shield before leaving it propped up against a wall, and we set off back to Ald'ruhn. It was slower going this time, since we were tired and weighted down by the shields, and by the time we got back the entire town was awake and bustling.

Lloros was sad to hear about the soldiers' deaths, but grateful for the return of the shields. To my surprise, when Varvur told him about me having to leave my Legion shield behind, he offered to give me a banner shield of my own.

"Really?" I asked. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. You are a Redoran and have served us well, so you should have a shield." He smiled. "May it protect you well."

After Varvur had gone home I held my new shield in my hands for a while, examining it. It was as strong as a Legion shield, and a bit lighter as well – not a bad trade, really. And of course, it was visible proof of my allegiance to House Redoran. Just as putting on my uniform for the first time had made me feel part of the Legion, having a Redoran shield helped me to feel that I really belonged in the House.

I spent most of the rest of the day in bed, catching up on sleep. The following morning I went over to Sarethi Manor to speak to Athyn. I told him that I'd have to leave Ald'ruhn on business in a few days, and asked if there was anything else he wanted me to do for him.

"I do have one more task for you," he told me. "It concerns an old friend of mine, Arethan Mandas. Once he was a great noble of House Redoran, but his manor was destroyed by corprus monsters, and since then I fear he has gone mad. He now claims to be the Lord of West Gash, and is demanding 'tribute' from travellers on the road to Maar Gan."

"Where can I find him?" I asked.

"In the cavern of Milk. Be warned: he has a few loyal followers, and some outlaws have joined his 'estate'." He took my map in order to mark the location of Milk. "But in any case, I would prefer that Arethan be cured of his madness, rather than killed. You might want to go to Ebonheart and speak with his father Llerar, who is the Redoran representative on the Grand Council."

I wasn't sure how anyone could be 'cured' of madness, unless it was caused by some sort of magic like those Sixth House statues. Still, the next day I set off for Ebonheart to see Llerar Mandas, using the Levitation spell from Vivec's shrine to travel there. The priestess selling the Rising Force potions looked even more suspicious than before.

"I hope you would not think of abusing Lord Vivec's blessing for your own gain, outlander," she said pointedly. "For that would be blasphemy, and blasphemy is punishable by – "

"Absolutely not," I said hurriedly. "I like to pray to Lord Vivec whenever I have the chance, that's all." She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. I decided to buy my Rising Force potions somewhere else from now on.

Llerar Mandas was a distinguished-looking elderly Dunmer, but he was dressed in the strangest suit of armour I'd ever seen. As far as I could tell, it seemed to be made out of pieces of metal from what looked like Dwemer machinery. You can get 'Dwarven' armour easily enough in Cyrodiil – assuming you're fantastically rich, of course – but this was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Honestly, I couldn't see how he could even _walk_ in those enormous boots.

Llerar nodded sadly when I told him about his son attacking travellers. "Yes, I heard my son had gone mad. I fear his madness was caused when his daughter, Delyna, was captured."

"Captured?"

He nodded again. "She is being held captive in Tel Fyr, the Telvanni tower of Sorcerer-Lord Divayth Fyr."

"Divayth _Fyr_?" I exclaimed, with such horror that Llerar looked mildly surprised.

"Yes," he said, with a sigh. "I am not sure how it happened, but if I know my granddaughter, I imagine she was spying on him. I do not want to lose another grandchild to the Telvanni." _Another_? "Please bring her back to me."

Oh, _bloody_ hell. I could hardly have refused, but inside I wanted to scream. If there was one place in Morrowind I never, ever wanted to see again – apart from the Sixth House cavern of Ilunibi, of course – it was Divayth Fyr's Telvanni tower. Of all the wizards' towers in all Vvardenfell, why did Mandas' daughter have to choose _that_ one to get captured in?

At least this time I didn't have to worry about flying, I thought, as I floated back over the ocean to Vivec's Foreign Quarter. I could live without another humiliating scold from Fyr's 'daughters', or whatever the hell they were. Suddenly a truly awful thought struck me – what if that mad old pervert had decided he wanted Delyna Mandas as a 'wife' as well? It was too horrible to think about.

The journey to Tel Fyr was much easier this time: I simply flew there from Wolverine Hall after teleporting to Sadrith Mora. Inside the tower, I was greeted by one of Fyr's daughters – Beyte, if I remembered correctly. "Is your father in?" I asked. "I need to speak to him urgently."

"He's up in his study. I hope you've brought enough Levitation potions with you this time," she called after me, as I hurried out of the room. I gritted my teeth and ignored her.

Fyr was sitting at his desk, looking exactly as he had when I last saw him – it was as if he hadn't moved at all since then. "Hello, Ada," he said cheerfully. "How are you doing? Bit of bad news, I'm afraid – the potion doesn't seem to work on others. Tried it on two hopeless cases, and it killed them outright – deader than a garlic snail. But is there anything I can help you with?"

I had a little speech all prepared. "Master Fyr, I need to ask you for a great favour. It's regarding a Redoran woman named Delyna Mandas."

His face was completely blank. "Delyna Mandas? I don't recall her name."

"You… don't?" Okay, this was unexpected. "I, er, was told that you were holding her prisoner."

Fyr shrugged. "Many people try to steal from my tower or spy on me or enter the Corprusarium. I cannot be expected to keep track of them all. If you want to look for her, go right ahead."

"You mean… you would agree to let her go?"

He nodded. "I will not interfere with your escape, but if she returns to my tower, I will not be held responsible."

Talos, the guy was even crazier than I thought. How the heck could you capture a spy, lock her up, and then just _forget_ about her? Well, at least it meant he probably hadn't been torturing Delyna or using her as a test subject for his Corprus experiments. I just hoped someone had been remembering to feed her.

"Well, that's very kind of you," I said at last. "I'm sure her family will appreciate it. This wouldn't happen to be a key to the dungeons, would it?" I asked, noticing a small key lying on the table beside him.

"Oh, I'm sure it unlocks something or other," he said with a wink.

I took the key from the table and set off to look for the room where Delyna was held prisoner. It wasn't difficult to find; there was only one door in the entire tower that looked remotely suitable. Unfortunately the key I'd taken from Divayth didn't seem to fit in the lock. It was too hard to pick, and even my Ondusi's Unhinging scrolls didn't seemed to work.

Over in the next room, Beyte Fyr heard my exasperated grunts and came out to see what was going on. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get this door open, of course," I growled, and then paused. "Er… your father said I could, by the way."

She shrugged with complete indifference. "Would you happen to know where the key is?" I asked.

"No, I don't," she said with another shrug. "It's probably somewhere in the Corprusarium."

"The _Corprusarium_?"

"That's where my father keeps most of his keys. He lets adventurers plunder the dungeon for treasure."

I closed my eyes briefly. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to cast a spell to open this door, by any chance?"

"No."

"Thought not." I heaved a sigh. "Corprusarium it is, then."

Down in the Corprusarium entrance, I prepared to search the dungeons by casting the Chameleon enchantment on my Amulet of Shadows. "Remember that you must not harm the inmates," the warden called to me as I went by.

What followed was like a twisted kind of treasure hunt designed by an evil madman. I raced around the Corprusarium, avoiding the lumbering corprus monsters, and trying to find the chest which fitted Divayth's key. Each of the chests in turn contained a different key, which opened another of the chests in the Corprusarium – including one at the bottom of a deep pool (_why_?!) If I hadn't had the benefit of the levitation and Chameleon spells, I probably wouldn't have made it out alive – or at least without being forced to kill some of the inmates.

Finally I found what seemed to be the final key. I emerged from the Corprusarium, dripping wet and on the verge of tears, and tried it on the golden door – only to find that it didn't fit in the slightest. None of the others did either. I nearly howled in frustration.

"What's the matter?" asked Beyte, hearing my strangled cry of rage.

"It doesn't work!" I wailed. "I've tried all the keys, and none of them work!"

"Well, there are other chests within the tower itself," she said calmly. "Perhaps you simply haven't found the right key yet."

It's a good thing Fyr wasn't there to hear the things I threatened to do to him (under my breath, of course) as I searched the tower for even more chests. At last I found one which could be opened by one of the Corprusarium keys. I tried the key from the new chest on the golden door, and finally, _finally_, it worked.

The door swung open to reveal a surprised-looking Dunmer woman in leather armour. "Delyna Mandas?" I asked wearily.

She nodded. "Who are you? Did my father send you?"

"Your grandfather, actually." I sighed. "Next time you decide to spy on a Telvanni wizard, could you please try _not_ to get caught? You wouldn't believe what I've had to go through to get you out of here."

"I can't imagine," she murmured, staring at my soaking-wet clothes and hair. I think she was picturing Divayth Fyr dunking me in a pond for his own amusement. I wouldn't have put it past him, frankly.

As we left the tower together, I told Delyna about her father's descent into madness. She looked grave. "I heard my father went mad with grief when I was captured, but I did not know how bad things were. I will see him as soon as I can."

"Do you want me to take you back to Sadrith Mora?"

She shook her head. "I have duties that cannot be ignored. I will visit my father when I can. In the meantime, please take this locket to him." She handed me a small engraved amulet from her pocket. "Thank you for rescuing me."

I cast a Divine Intervention spell to get back to Wolverine Hall, leaving Delyna to finish off whatever business she had at Tel Fyr. I hoped to goodness she wouldn't manage to get herself captured again. If she did, I thought, she'd better not expect me to get her out of there a second time.

I was far too tired to go looking for Arethan Mandas after all that, so I spent the rest of the day in Ald'ruhn before returning to Buckmoth for the night. The next day I set off again down that all-too-familiar route towards the west coast. According to my map, the cavern of Milk was just a little north-east of Drulene Falen's hut.

Outside the cave entrance, I wondered what would be best: to walk straight in and try to talk Arethan's guards into letting me see him, or sneak past them and hope that I'd find him alone. The first option was definitely more dangerous – for all I knew, the guards might attack me on sight. Athyn hadn't forbidden me to kill them, but I didn't want to do that unless I absolutely had to, even if they had been attacking travellers. I finally decided to rely on my Chameleon amulet.

No one spotted me as I ran through the caverns in search of Lord Mandas. Luckily it didn't take me too long to find him, and he was alone. He was wearing a heavy suit of armour, and looked like he'd once been a powerful warrior, but I noticed that his face looked almost as worn and wrinkled as his father's. I guess that's what a complete nervous breakdown followed by months of living in a cave will do to you.

Mandas was pacing up and down in an agitated way, muttering to himself in Dunmeris. His speech was so confused that I could only make out a few words like 'daughter' and 'tower'. I hid myself in an alcove until the spell wore off, and then stepped out to meet him.

"Lord Mandas?" I said softly, not wanting to alarm him. I didn't know whether he might turn violent. "My name is Ada. Your daughter Delyna sent me here to visit you."

Mandas slowly turned around to face me. His movements were hesitant, but there was a wild look in his eyes. "Daughter, my daughter, mine," he said, looking directly at me. "Delyna Mandas. Saint Delyn, a man thus ain't. Lock it, her locket. Keep it locked up. In her pocket. Who owns that locket?"

Sweet Mara. Athyn hadn't been kidding when he told me that his friend had gone completely mad. "She's all right, Lord Mandas," I said, trying to sound calm and soothing. "I've seen her. She's still alive."

"Oh, my daughter," he moaned. "My daughter, would you not listen? Delyna, daughter, so bold. So stupid. Bold and stupid spy…"

I kind of had to agree with him on that, but this wasn't really the time to say so. "She's fine," I stated clearly, taking a step towards him. "Your daughter is safe. Look, she gave me her locket to show to you." I took the locket from the pouch on my belt and held it out to him.

Arethan stared at my outstretched hands, his eyes fixed on the locket. "My daughter," he whispered. "Where is she? Her locket... is it? Is she? No! Must know! Can't bear to know!" His voice was starting to shake.

"She's safe," I repeated, looking straight into his eyes. "I rescued her from the tower. She asked me to bring her locket to you to show you that she's safe."

"Safe?" Arethan took a hesitant step towards me, and carefully lifted the amulet out of my hands. He cradled it in the palm of his hand for several seconds, staring at it.

"She's... safe," he said at last. "So safe. I must be there for her. I must…"

He looked up at me, and for the first time, the frenzied look was gone from his eyes. "Thank you, Ada. I will stop now." He shook his head. "The attacks on the road. I knew it was wrong… but what could I do? My guards are loyal. Always looking out for me."

He pottered off, presumably to tell the guards that they shouldn't attack anyone else from now on. I hoped that extended to me as well. When he returned he was still clutching Delyna's locket in his hand.

"Yes, my daughter is safe," he said, nodding vigorously. "I can think in better categories now. Tell Athyn I will order no more attacks on the road out front my house."

"I'll tell him," I promised.

"He should visit me." Arethan glanced around the dark, dingy cave, and smiled. "The weather is very nice in here. Neither ash nor rain."

I felt a painful lump in my throat, and had to blink back tears from my own eyes. Poor, poor guy. I hoped his daughter would soon be back to take care of him.

Arethan's guards regarded me a little suspiciously as I walked back through the cave. None of them said or did anything, but I was still pretty happy to get out of there. As soon as I was back outside, I cast Almsivi Intervention to get back to Ald'ruhn.

Back in Sarethi Manor, I told Athyn the story behind Arethan's madness, and how I'd managed to cure him of it (well, sort of). He listened to the entire story without saying a word, until I reached the end.

"From what you say, perhaps Arethan has not totally regained his senses, but his guards have stopped demanding tribute from travellers," he said at last. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "I did not believe it could be done. I am proud of you this day, Ada."

I felt my face grew hot, and for a few moments I could hardly speak. "It is not usual for a new recruit to be promoted through the ranks so quickly," he continued, "but I believe you have truly earned the title of House Brother. Congratulations, my friend."

House _Brother_? Don't get me wrong, I was immensely grateful – moved, even – but also a little confused. Shouldn't that be 'House Sister'? Well, under the circumstances, it seemed a bit petty to complain.

Before I left the manor, Athyn asked me to come to dinner that night with him and his family. A few weeks ago I'd have been happy about this because it showed I was gaining influence with him – influence which might help me get back to Cyrodiil. Now it made me happy for very different reasons. After a year in jail and two months of exile in a foreign land, where I literally didn't know anyone at all, even something as simple as an invitation to dinner felt strangely heartwarming.

The only thing left to do now was to go to Llerar Mandas and tell him that his granddaughter and son were safe. The look of joy and relief in his eyes made all the trouble and inconvenience seem almost worth it, even that nightmarish scavenger-hunt through Divayth Fyr's Corprusarium. After thanking me, he disappeared into a back room and returned carrying a closed ebony helm.

"Please take this helm from all the Mandas family," he said, grasping my hand firmly. "Know that you have earned an ally in House Redoran."

An ally on the Grand Council, eh? Well, that could be useful. As for the helm, I usually avoided ebony armour because of its sheer weight, but it certainly did offer excellent protection. Perhaps, if I ever managed to sell Sheogorath's ring, I could use some of the cash to put a Feather enchantment on it.

Back in Ald'ruhn, I hired a room at the Ald Skar inn and spent the evening preparing for the dinner party. I wore my new clothes in honour of the occasion and spent a longer-than-usual time getting ready, carefully styling my hair and applying make-up. It wasn't often I got to do this, after all.

Varvur looked mildly stunned when I showed up at Sarethi Manor in the elegant robes I'd bought in Vivec. "Ada!" he stammered. "You look very… nice."

"So do you," I replied, feeling myself blush. It was true, actually. Redoran fashions for men were rather plainer and simpler than the Western styles, but in Varvur's case, it suited him.

Dinner was a cosy family affair, much nicer than my usual meals of bland food in grotty taverns and mess halls. Athyn and his wife chatted to me and asked me questions about my background, which I tried to answer without giving too much away. Varvur didn't say very much, though I did catch him looking at me closely a couple of times.

The food was pretty good as well. "This is excellent," I said to Athyn, as I munched my way through a slice of meat pie. "What is it?"

He smiled. "It's a traditional Redoran recipe. Quite famous, in fact."

"Really?" I hadn't realised the Redorans were known for their cooking as well as their combat skills. "So what's in it?"

"Hound and rat meat, mixed with kwama egg and scuttle."

I nearly choked on a mouthful of pie. "_Rat_ meat?"

"Yes. Have you never eaten rat before?" I shook my head, fighting a sudden urge to throw up. "The taste is not so good, but it is nutritious, and quite filling."

"I… suppose so." My appetite seemed to have disappeared all of a sudden. Varvur buried his face into a napkin, seemingly overcome by a heavy fit of coughing. I strongly suspected that he was trying not to laugh.

Somehow I forced myself to finish up the rest of my plate, and the next course (this time I had the sense not to ask what was in it). I washed it all down with several glasses of the local comberry wine, which was also excellent. In fact, it was so good that I ended up drinking a little _too_ much.

"You know what I really miss about Cyrodiil?" I announced, as the servants were clearing our plates away. "Strawberries."

"Strawberries?"

"Mmm, strawberries. They're these little red berries, about _this_ big." I made a circle with my thumb and forefinger. "They're expensive, of course, but they taste like the food of the Gods. I wonder if… no, you probably couldn't import them. They'd go rotten."

Varvur spoke up for almost the first time that evening. "What is it like, your homeland?"

"Cyrodiil? It's beautiful," I said dreamily. "Forests everywhere. There's probably more trees in the Great Forest than in the whole of Vvardenfell. I miss trees." I felt a dull ache in my throat.

"Up in the north there are mountains," I went on, "and it snows almost all year round. And out west, on the Gold Coast, you can walk through these endless fields with miles and miles of… golden…" My voice trailed off as hot tears began to roll down my cheeks.

The Sarethis exchanged worried glances. Domesea was looking at me with a mixture of sympathy and bemusement. "If you love it so much, _sera_, why don't you return there?"

"Because I _can't_," I wailed. Now that I'd started crying, I couldn't seem to stop. "I'm sorry. I… I think I'd better be going."

Athyn immediately invited me to stay the night in one of the guest rooms, but I didn't want to trespass on his hospitality any longer. Besides, I'd already paid for a room at the inn. Varvur came over all gentlemanly and offered to walk me back there, but I refused – the last thing I wanted right now was people fussing over me. I mumbled my thanks for the lovely meal and hurried back to the Ald Skar, where I cried myself to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to Forest Stalker/Lady MorningStar for the loan of her character Aeronwen (just a little cameo appearance there...)


	25. Chapter 25: OK, So Maybe I Really AM The

**Chapter 25: OK, So Maybe I Really **_**Am **_**The Nerevarine**

It wasn't until I woke up the morning after my meal _chez_ Sarethi – with a splitting headache, naturally – that I remembered I wasn't supposed to be sleeping in town, for fear of night-time zombie attacks. ("See, Aunt Sybilla, I _told_ you the monsters would come and get me…") Nothing had happened that night, though. I wondered if there was some reason for this, or if I'd just been lucky.

I had to gulp down a Cure Poison potion – one of the ones I was supposed to be saving for my missions in the wilderness – before I could even think about facing the world again. Memories of last night were resurfacing, and I had a horrible vision of drinking too much and getting all mawkish over Cyrodiil before fleeing the house in tears. Way to impress your Redoran sponsor there, Ada.

When I went up to tavern for breakfast, I was surprised to see Varvur sitting at the bar. He got to his feet as soon as he saw me. "I came here to see you, Ada. Are you all right? I was worried about you."

"I'm fine, thanks," I told him, surprised and rather touched. "Just a little hung over, that's all. Why would you be worried?"

"Last night you seemed a little… upset," he said carefully. "I thought perhaps you were missing more things than forests and… strawberries."

I shrugged, trying to make light of it. "Yeah, I was feeling a bit homesick. And drunk, of course. I hope your parents weren't offended?"

Varvur shook his head. "I think they understand… or at least my father does. He has often told me how homesick he was when he first arrived in Hammerfell."

We ordered some breakfast, and took it to a table in the corner to eat. I wasn't really all that hungry, and my stomach lurched whenever I thought of last night's Rat Surprise, but I did feel a little better once I had some food inside me. A large mug of Hackle-lo tea helped as well.

"Ada, may I ask you a question?" said Varvur, as we were eating. "You said that you could not go back to Cyrodiil, even if you wanted to. Why is that?"

I hesitated. Of course, I'd already told my story to the innkeeper in Seyda Neen on the first day I arrived, but confessing my past crimes to a stranger whom I'd never see again was different from revealing them to a friend and fellow Redoran. And that was without even mentioning all the palaver with the Blades and the Nerevarine prophecies.

"Do you remember when we were walking to Shurinbaal?" I said at last. "And I told you that I had a friend who'd killed someone and been jailed for murder? Well…"

"Ah." He nodded. "This was you, yes? I thought that might be… but I could not imagine you murdering anyone, even if you were drunk. How did it happen?"

I told him the whole story, as briefly and straightforwardly as possible. "I'm not asking for sympathy, by the way," I said, when I reached the end. "The guy was an arsehole, but he didn't deserve to die. I just wish I'd been jailed for the right reasons, that's all."

Varvur nodded slowly, thinking over what I had said. "You should have challenged him to a duel. Or your father or brother – "

"Don't have either," I said shortly. "I've never met my real family. I don't even know who they are."

"Really? You are an orphan, then?"

"Yup." I explained how I'd been found and adopted as a baby, and my own pet theory as to who my real parents had been. It went something like this: High-born Imperial lady has affair with totally unsuitable Nord commoner. High-born lady's parents find out and put a stop to it, but not before she becomes pregnant with unwanted bastard child. Parents abandon poor, innocent baby outside a Temple, where nice kind priests find her and… well, you know the rest.

Varvur listened to the whole thing, shaking his head. "It is so sad," he said, when I'd finished.

"Why?" I asked in surprise. "I was happy enough with my adoptive parents. You can't miss what you've never had, right?"

"But your family, your ancestors…"

"Hey, if my parents didn't want me, I'm guessing my ancestors probably don't either." I drained my mug of tea. "Anyway, it's probably time I got going."

We finished our meal and left the tavern together. "My father told me you would be going away on business," Varvur said, when we were outside. "How long will you be gone?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe just a few days, maybe longer."

"Well, in that case…" Suddenly he looked a little shy again. "Before you go, I would just like to thank you for everything you've done for me. Not just for rescuing me, but for helping me to prove that I have strength and courage." He took a deep breath. "When I returned from Andasreth, my father told me that I had made him proud. I cannot remember the last time he said this to me."

Once again I felt a pang of sympathy for the guy. It couldn't be easy, having to live up to a father whom everyone called 'the Hope of the Redoran'. "There's no need to thank me, Varvur," I told him. "You've always had those things; you just needed a chance to show it."

"And you gave me one." He took a hesitant step forwards, and for a moment I thought he was about to hug me, but he settled for taking my hand in both of his and squeezing it tightly. "Thank you," he said again, with a gentle smile, before turning and walking off towards Skar.

I have to admit, that melted my heart into a puddle. Varvur was the sweetest guy I'd ever met, bar none.

It was on that morning that I first began to suspect I was being followed. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I kept thinking I saw someone, just out of the corner of my eye, who quickly moved away when I turned to look at them directly. It could be that this was the first time it happened, or that it had been happening for a while and I simply hadn't noticed before. I didn't know who it could be, either – the Sixth House, or maybe even the Temple? I wasn't sure which prospect was worse.

At least they couldn't follow me to the Urshilaku camp, I thought grimly. I decided to return there straight away, even though it wasn't quite a week since I'd left. I could always spend some time in Gnisis if Nibani needed more time to read the tea leaves, or stare into her crystal ball, or whatever.

I walked into the enclosed courtyard of the Temple, where I could easily see anyone who tried to follow me in, and cast the Recall spell… and cast it again… and again… until at last it actually worked. My skill in Mysticism was very gradually improving, due to all the Intervention spells I'd been casting recently, but progress was painfully slow. What I really needed was a few heavy-duty sessions with one of the Mages' Guild trainers, but I couldn't afford it.

The Ashlanders looked only mildly surprised when I suddenly appeared in the middle of the camp. From the amused, dismissive looks on their faces, it seemed that they'd come to see me as eccentric, but harmless. Not exactly flattering, but I guess it was a step up from 'looting, pillaging Imperial ravager'.

"I am ready to give you my judgement," Nibani told me, as soon as I entered the yurt.

"Okay?" Suddenly I felt unaccountably nervous.

"The ancestors and stars have given me clear signs," she said. "The lost prophecies leave no doubt – the Incarnate shall be an outlander. You, blessed by Azura, must lift the seven curses of Dagoth Ur."

I breathed in deeply. "So… it's true, then? I am the Nerevarine?"

She didn't directly answer the question. "Prophecy has shown the seven steps of the Nerevarine's path, and I have been chosen as your guide for each step on that path. I will read the signs, and show you the way. It is time for you to walk the path of the Seven Visions, and pass the Seven Trials of the Seven Visions."

Oh, boy. I'd almost forgotten about those. I began to search my pack for a copy of the Seven Visions as Nibani continued speaking.

"You are born on a certain day to uncertain parents," she said, "so you have passed the first trial. My dreams show me that you also fulfil the second trial. That you have overcome the Curse-of-Flesh is strange enough, but that it should protect you from blight and age is past belief – yet the signs of my dreams are clear. But the third trial is unfulfilled."

I dug the crumpled piece of paper out of my pack and smoothed it out on the table. "'_In caverns dark Azura's eye sees,_'" I read out loud, "'_and makes to shine the moon and star._' What's that supposed to mean?"

"In legend there is a shrine to Azura called the Cavern of the Incarnate. There are secrets I may not tell you about this cavern, so do not ask." Gee, thanks a lot. "As for the moon and star, legend says that Nerevar's family standard bore this symbol, as I told you before. I think this is the mark of the Nerevarine, but you do not have this mark – so you are not the Nerevarine."

"Okay… sorry," I said, pressing a hand to my forehead. "I'm probably just being a bit thick here, but I don't quite understand. You're saying I'm _not_ the Nerevarine?"

"As I said, you do not have the moon-and-star mark. So you are not the Nerevarine."

"But you want me to take these Seven Trials in any case?"

She nodded. I sucked in breath. "So basically the answer is 'no, not yet, but maybe'?"

"Yes."

Oh, for crying out loud. Had I really gone to all that trouble bringing Nibani the Lost Prophecies, and waited a week for her to study them, only to hear exactly the same thing she'd told me to start with? All I wanted to know was whether I was the reincarnation of Lord Nerevar Indoril, Dunmer warlord and hero of the First Era. Godsdammit, was that _such_ a difficult question?

"So how do I fulfil the third trial?" I asked, trying to hide my annoyance.

"The mystery of the third trial is not my secret to share. Go to Sul-Matuul, the guardian of our cult, and he shall tell you of it. When you have fulfilled the trial, return to me for guidance on your next steps on the path of the Nerevarine."

Some 'wise woman', I thought, as I made my way to Ashkhan Sul-Matuul's yurt. It was pretty obvious that she didn't really have a clue whether I was the Nerevarine or not. All that talk about ancestors and stars was a load of crap – she was probably just hedging her bets in case I really did turn out to be The One.

When I spoke to Sul-Matuul, it seemed that he was still a tiny bit skeptical about me being the Nerevarine – not that I could entirely blame him. "This is a hard thing to believe," he said. "But Nibani Maesa has spoken to me at length of this, and I have had time to consider. Therefore I shall keep my own counsel, and set before you my own test."

I might not have Nibani's gift of foresight, but I had a sudden prophetic vision that I was going to face a _lot_ of these 'tests' in the near future. "What kind of test?" I asked, my heart sinking.

"I do not dispute with the wise women," he said, "but their ways are not the ways of the warrior. Many before have tried the path of the Nerevarine, but all have failed the warrior's test. You must have strength, courage, and cunning. These things I would test."

"And what is the warrior's test?"

"Nearby lies Kogoruhn, the ancient halls of the forgotten house, House Dagoth. In recent time, creatures of the blight have come to dwell there." His expression darkened. "I myself went there with some brave hunters, but it was a bad place, and I am not ashamed to say I was afraid for myself and my men. If you would have the secret of the Third Trial, you will first bring to me three tokens from dark Kogoruhn: corprus weepings from a corprus beast, a cup with the mark of House Dagoth, and the Shadow Shield."

"Hang on, corprus _weepings_? You mean you want the… from their…" Dear Gods, that was probably the most disgusting thing I'd ever heard.

Sul-Matuul nodded. "This will show that you are proof against the disease's corruption. I have myself seen the cups there, and the Shadow Shield lies on the Tomb of Dagoth Morin, in the lava tunnels deep beneath ruined Kogoruhn. Bring these things to me, and then I will tell you the secret of the Third Trial."

And so, yet again, I found myself wandering out into the Ashlands in search of a bunch of random items while Mr. Ashkhan sat around in his cosy tent. Seeing on my map that the stronghold of Koguruhn wasn't all that far from the camp, I decided to walk there, hoping I could reach the place before nightfall. Unfortunately I'd reckoned without something fairly important: ashstorms.

I must have been about half-way to Kogoruhn when I noticed that the wind was picking up. Only minutes later there were clouds of dust swirling around, the sky had turned an ugly red colour, and I realised with mild panic that a Blight storm was imminent. And this time I didn't have a closed helmet to protect myself from it. What was I going to do?

Telling myself not to panic, I headed for the only shelter in sight: a bunch of tall rocks standing close together. I pulled one of my spare shirts from my pack and wound it tightly around my face so that it covered my eyes, nose and mouth. I could still breathe through the fabric, though not very comfortably. Then I sat down, curled myself into a tight ball, and prepared to wait out the storm.

The candidates for 'worst day/night of my life' had been piling up since I arrived in Morrowind, but this one had to be pretty high on the list. For the next few hours, which felt like a week, I sat shivering in the biting wind while ash seeped into every last crevice of my armour, clothing and body. Almost as bad was the knowledge that yet _again_, I'd nearly got myself into serious trouble by ignoring the dangers of blight storms. _You are hard-headed, and ignorant…_

By the time the storm died down, it was already too dark to go any further. I huddled up in a ball and went to sleep, knowing my limbs would be frozen and stiff the next morning.

As soon as it got light and I could move again, I gobbled down some food and potions and carried on towards Kogoruhn, eventually reaching it a couple of hours later. From the outside it looked very much like Andasreth, the stronghold I'd visited with Varvur: huge, austere and forbidding. I was about to discover that the inside was a thousand times worse.

Luckily I had the sense to cast a Chameleon enchantment before entering the first of the small, domed buildings on Kogoruhn's base. If I hadn't, I'd have immediately attracted the attention of the hideous… _thing_… that stood inside, half-turned towards me. It was about seven feet tall, entirely shrouded in a cloak apart from its head and spindly hands, with a 'face' that consisted entirely of several long, greyish-green tentacles. As soon as I'd finished hyperventilating with terror, I _very carefully_ backed out through the door and closed it behind me.

The second small building housed another ash creature looking exactly like Dagoth Gares, the Sixth House servant in Ilunibi. I could probably have taken him on, but as it happened, I didn't need to. Lying on a table in plain sight was just what I needed: a jewelled goblet with the mark of House Dagoth on it. I literally just picked it up and slipped it into my pack without being noticed.

As I was leaving the room, I spotted some Daedric words written on the floor in bright-red chalk. When I paused to read the words, I realised that they said '_The Dreamer is awake_', and a sudden chill ran down my spine.

The first level of Kogoruhn's main building looked pretty much like the inside of Andasreth, only with a bunch of eerie symbols scrawled on the walls and floor. There weren't even a lot of enemies around – only a handful of ash creatures and corprus beasts. I managed to pick up some of the weepings from the fleshy sores on their bodies, wrapping them carefully in a piece of cloth without letting any get on my hands. Corprus resistance or not, there was no way I was actually touching that stuff.

As I went lower, however, things began to get scarier. In a large chamber on the next level I found another of those ghoul-creatures resembling Dagoth Gares. He didn't speak, just attacked me, but afterwards I found a scrawled note pinned to a table with a dagger:

_ALL CRIES ARE WAKING!  
Whitest White of all White!  
Blackest Blacks of all Blacks!  
Shame and Son, Sun, and Shadow!_

_Stronger than gods, brighter than mortals!  
Only He is Awake!  
Only He is Alive!_

It rambled on like this for about six verses before finishing:

_I see you with MY EYE!  
And all is SILENCE!  
I Wake! I Remember!  
LORD!_

Clearly the authors of the Nerevarine Prophecies didn't have a monopoly on bad poetry. But it frightened me to think what sort of broken mind could dream up this stuff.

Another level down and things were getting seriously creepy. The stone halls here were bathed in eerie red light, and decorated with more of those huge ash statues, which filled my head with maddening whispers whenever I came near them. Behind several locked doors in one section I found the dead bodies of other adventurers, some of them carrying expensive armour and weaponry. Since none of them held anything like the 'Shadow Shield' I was supposed to be looking for, I left them in peace.

But nothing prepared me for coming face to face with another of those tentacled creatures deep in a vault. It spotted me as soon as I walked into the room, and so I had no time to cast a Chameleon enchantment – or any others for that matter. As I froze in fear, the creature let out a rumble of deep, breathy laughter.

"Welcome to Kogoruhn, 'Nerevar'!" it – or he – said in a mocking tone. "I am Dagoth Ulen, an Ascended Sleeper, and servant of Dagoth Ur."

I leapt backwards as if I'd been scorched by a firebolt. The creature bent towards me a little, and I noticed several small holes in his head that presumably functioned as eyes. Another deep laugh emerged from somewhere in his bloated body.

"Look! It's Azura's Fool!" he taunted me. "Look at you. Not a real thing at all – just a pathetic puppet of prophecy. And you think you can trust the Daedra Lords?"

"Azura's Fool? What are you talking about?"

Dagoth Tentacles shook his head. "Ah, she's sucked you in with her pretty prophecies. Promised you power, did she? Promised you justice, did she?"

"Um, no and no," I said, now genuinely confused. "What 'pretty prophecies'? All she did when I met her was ask me to fight a bunch of Daedra."

He laughed. "Mortals are but simple sport to the Daedra Lords. They pull the strings, and you poor fools leap and dance. Why do you serve them? Why do you fall for their honeyed lies?"

"_What_ honeyed lies? Nobody's told me any honeyed lies! The only thing Azura promised me was a soulgem I didn't even want in any case!"

"Come on!" he mocked, completely ignoring what I'd just said. "You're the prophesied Incarnate!" Azura has promised you fame and glory – "

"No she HASN'T!"

"… so surely you can't be afraid of me, can you? Don't be shy. With a Daedra Lord for ally and patron, how could you lose? Oh, _please_ don't hurt me, star-blessed hero!"

Before he could even finish his last sentence, I stuck my blade right between his eyes. (Well, it worked for Dagoth Gares.) Unfortunately this guy put up a bit more of a fight. As I pulled the blade out of his forehead, he shrugged off the blow as if it were a minor scratch and viciously headbutted me, sending me staggering backwards. A moment later I felt a stinging cloud of poison magicka envelop me, wracking my whole body with agonising pain.

There was no time to take any kind of evasive action. My shield and armour wouldn't defend me against magicka, so all I could do was stab at him again and again while he countered by blasting me with spells. I could feel myself growing weaker with every blow as the poison did its work. The pain was so intense that I could hardly see.

Finally another staggering blow from Ulen's head knocked me to the ground. This is it, I thought – I'm dead. I took one last desperate swipe at his ankles, trying to cut his feet off, and to my astonishment he just vanished – literally crumbled into dust, leaving nothing behind but a skull.

I lay on the floor, gasping, almost too weak to move. I was shaking like a leaf, so much that I could hardly even hold the health potion I managed to tip out of my pack. It helped, but it didn't cure the poison, and I was in no state to root around in my bag for a cure potion right now – if I even had one left after wasting so many on hangovers. I had to keep drinking vial after vial of restoration potions until the poison effect wore off.

That was a bizarre encounter, I thought, as I stumbled out of the room. Bizarre and painful. What the heck was all that about false promises and 'honeyed lies'? Talos, I only _wished_ people would seduce me with promises of fame and glory rather than "Okay sucker, go and bring me nineteen ash statues from the Foul Zombie-Infested Caverns of Filthiness, and I'll read you some more of our terrible poetry."

If Azura really was behind the Nerevarine prophecies – which was what Ulen seemed to be saying – why on Nirn hadn't she told me about it when I visited her shrine? I mean, the whole 'being the reincarnation of Nerevar' thing did seem fairly important. You'd think she'd at least have mentioned it.

The next level down was some kind of sewer or storm drain, filled with canals. There were no Dagoths there, just a few atronachs. To be honest, this was almost a relief after what I'd just been through. If I'd been hoping things would get better from here on, though, I was to be disappointed.

Below the sewers was an underground cave filled with steaming lava pits. The heat was almost unbearable, and what was more, the place was crawling with Daedra and Sixth House creatures. I'd thought the 'Ascended Sleepers' were bad enough, but I got the shock of my life when I stumbled across one that looked – I swear to all the Divines – exactly like Dagoth Ur from my dreams. He was grey-skinned, wearing nothing but a loincloth over his strangely shrivelled-looking body, and had claw-like hands with long, pointed fingernails; all that was missing was the golden mask.

For a moment we just stared at each other, sizing each other up. "Are you Dagoth Ur?" I asked at last, knowing that if the answer was 'yes', my luck had just run out permanently.

He smiled. "No, I am Dagoth Uthol."

"Oh good gods, there's more than _one_ of you?"

"I am the brother of Dagoth Ur." He shrugged. "He said you would come to us, and he was right. Have you come to submit? Or come to die?"

I hesitated, seeing a tiny chance of possibly getting out of here alive. "If I wanted to submit, how would I do it?"

"Keep going," he said. "These passages lead under the Ghostfence and into the crater of Red Mountain. Then enter the Mount of Dagoth Ur, and find Lord Dagoth. Make your submission, and perhaps you may join us… if you survive such a journey."

"And what would I gain, if I 'made my submission'?"

"Lord Dagoth says you will join us or die," he said bluntly. "I thought you might just leave us alone, and go about your own affairs – but Lord Dagoth says it is not your way, to leave a thing well enough alone. I do my Lord's bidding, so go to him and submit. You will be given power and place – and, perhaps, peace and forgiveness."

"Okay, I'll think about it," I said. "Anything else?" He shook his head. "Right. I'll… just be going then."

I turned and walked away, fully expecting to get clobbered at any moment, but nothing happened. Had I really just talked a Sixth House demi-god into letting me wander freely through his lair? For an ancient immortal being of incredible power, this guy was _remarkably_ stupid.

I finally found the Shadow Shield, the last item on Sul-Matuul's shopping list, after defeating another ash ghoul creature. In terms of appearance it was a bit disappointing – just another piece of Dwemer junk, from what I could see – but it looked strong and did have some pretty good enchantments. As soon as I'd picked it up I cast a Recall spell, not wanting to give Dagoth Uthol a chance to change his mind.

When I landed in the Urshilaku camp I was shocked to realise that it was already dark. I'd spent the entire day in Kogoruhn. I couldn't face hearing about the Third Trial that night, so I went to the trader Kurapli – the closest thing I had to a friend in the camp – and stayed the night in her yurt. She was gracious enough not to mention the fact that I was covered in ash and stank to high heaven.

The next morning, after washing myself as best I could, I went to Sul-Matuul and handed him the three tokens of my visit to Kogoruhn. In fairness I must say that he looked genuinely impressed. He even told me I could keep all of them, though the only one I could possibly have any use for was the Shadow Shield.

"You have passed the Warrior's Test," he said, "and I will give you the secret of the Third Trial. You must go to the Cavern of the Incarnate, a place sacred to Azura, and look for the moon and star."

"But what _is_ the moon and star?"

"The legend of Moon-and-Star is known to all loremasters," he said. Except his own wise woman, apparently, but what the hell. "The enchanted ring called Moon-and-Star was forged for Nerevar by one of the Dwemer Sorcerer-Priest Kagrenac's smiths, and blessed by the Daedra Lord Azura. The ring gave Nerevar supernatural powers of persuasion, and any other who tried to wear the ring would be killed instantly. No man but Nerevar may wear that ring and live."

Ah, so it was a _ring_! And Azura really was mixed up in this somehow, was she? I guess I might have known.

"So you want me to find it, I take it?" I asked. "To prove that I really am the Nerevarine?"

Sul-Matuul nodded. "The secret of the Cavern of the Incarnate is set in a riddle:

_The eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind  
The mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl  
The dream is the door and the star is the key_."

Crap, more riddles. I hated riddles.

Sul-Matuul wouldn't translate the riddle for me directly, of course – that would have been far too easy. Instead he told me to 'take counsel of the wisdom of the tribes', whatever that meant. He also gave me an enchanted belt which symbolised the blessing of the tribe.

After talking to Nibani, and various other people around the camp, I managed to piece together the riddle. It seemed to refer to a rock called 'the Needle' in a valley called the Valley of the Wind, east of Red Mountain. Below this rock was the entrance to the Cavern of the Incarnate, which opened only at dusk and dawn – the time when Azura's Star appeared in the sky.

It might have been possible to walk to the valley from the Urshilaku camp, but there was no way I was going to do that. Instead I teleported back to Gnisis and spent the day happily soaking in a bath, before travelling back to Ald'ruhn by silt strider. I stored away the Shadow Shield, then bought several Rising Force potions from an alchemist and went to Vivec to use the Stop the Moon shrine (bring careful to avoid the priestess this time). Then I teleported to Sadrith Mora, the city nearest the valley, and flew north-west from there.

When I reached the Valley of the Wind, I could certainly see how it got its name. The wind whistling through it was relentless and almost unbearably loud. When I saw a small group of Ashlander tents below, I couldn't understand how they could live in this place without going mad. I heard them yell at me as I flew overhead, and stuck my tongue out at them.

Unfortunately, by the time I finally managed to find the cavern entrance – an ancient-looking door, carved with moon and star symbols – it was past dusk. All I got was a voice saying that the door would not open and "the star is the key".

Sighing, I settled down to wait out the night, and at dawn the next day I finally managed to enter the cavern. It was large and roughly circular, lit by the glow of luminous mushrooms, and filled with enormous stalagmites and stalactites. In the centre was a huge stone bust of Azura, her head slightly bent, as if she were looking down at something in her cupped hands. I shivered as I noticed several mummified bodies seated on the floor around her – was this what had become of other adventurers who'd stumbled upon the cavern?

As I walked closer, I saw a glint of metal in her outstretched hands. When I stood in front of the statue I could see what it was: a tiny ring, exquisitely carved and glowing faintly, with a small symbol of a silver moon and yellow star. So, at least one aspect of the prophecies was true: there really was a Moon-and-Star ring.

Suddenly I was scared. Really scared. If there was nothing in the prophecy, or if I really _was_ Nerevar reborn – and I still couldn't quite believe that – I'd nothing to fear either way. But if the legend was true, and I _wasn't_ the Incarnate, then I'd be killed – instantly. And, well… everything I'd been told so far had turned out to be true…

Well, here goes nothing, I thought. Taking a deep breath, I removed my gauntlet, scooped up the ring and slipped it onto my finger.

There was a blinding flash of light. For a moment I thought I must be dead – and then, I heard a voice.

"_Nerevar Reborn, Incarnate!_"

I cringed backwards, shielding my eyes. Azura's voice, clear and powerful, echoed round the cavern. "_Your first three trials are finished; now, two new trials lie before you. Seek the Ashlander Ashkhans, and the Great House Councils. Four tribes must name you Nerevarine; three Houses must name you Hortator._"

As she spoke, visions swirled before my eyes: towns, cities, Ashlander camps, and a brief glimpse of a golden-skinned figure inside a temple. I stood, transfixed.

"_My servant Nibani Maesa shall be your guide. And when you are Hortator and Nerevarine, when you've stood before the False God and freed the heart from its prison, heal my people and restore Morrowind. Do this for me, and with my blessing._"

The vision faded, and the echoes died away. I clasped my hands together, staring at the Moon-and-Star ring on my finger, and slowly sank to the ground.

"Well," I said shakily. "I guess I really _am_ the Nerevarine."


	26. Chapter 26: The Ancestor's Tale

**Chapter 26: The Ancestor's Tale**

I don't know how long I just sat there, my mind a whirl, staring vacantly at the ring on my finger. I was the Nerevarine. It was true. It was _all true_, and yet it sounded as insane as ever.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" I whispered to the statue of Azura, but there was no answer. She was gone.

Had she really said that I would have to go right into Red Mountain? And _personally_ confront Dagoth Ur, face to face, man to… er, woman? How in the name of all the Divines was I supposed to do that? He was a _god_, for crying out loud!

"Calm down, Ada," I mumbled to myself. "Okay, so you're the Nerevarine. That means you _have_ to fulfil the prophecies. No matter how crazy and impossible it may seem, you can't fail, so there has to be _some_ way to – AAAAAAH!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin as I realised, for the first time, that the room was filled with semi-transparent figures. There were six of them, all Dunmer, each standing beside one of the mummified bodies by Azura's statue. None of them spoke or moved; they just stood there, staring at me.

I got slowly to my feet and turned to the nearest of the hazy figures, a young red-haired girl in ragged clothing. She and the others were ghosts – or so I guessed – yet they didn't look like the usual sort of ghosts I'd seen in tombs or the occasional cavern. They looked just like normal people, only… see-through.

"Welcome, Incarnate, Moon-and-Star Reborn, Hortator, Nerevarine, Mourner of the Tribe Unmourned, Redeemer of the False Gods," she said, as I stood there gaping at her like some kind of halfwit. "I am Peakstar. I was not the one, but I wait and hope. Ask, and I shall answer, if wisdom guides me."

Peakstar? That name sounded familiar somehow. "Who are you?" I croaked. "What are you doing here?"

"I am Peakstar," she repeated. "I was called to the prophecies, but I was not the one."

"'Not the one'?"

She shook her head. "I survived the blight, but I fell in battle with an Ash Vampire. I could not master the arts of war; nor could I learn the ways of the Great Houses. They would not have accepted me as Hortator."

Suddenly I remembered where I'd heard the name 'Peakstar' before: she was the Ashlander girl who'd claimed to be the Nerevarine, and had mysteriously disappeared several decades earlier. And as I thought about this, and what it had to mean, a truly dreadful realisation began to creep over me. "You mean… these are all _failed_ Nerevarines?"

Peakstar nodded. "I am a failed Incarnate. So are all these who remain here with me in the Cavern of the Incarnate."

Talos help me, it all made sense now. Of course I couldn't be the first reincarnation of Nerevar – he'd died in the First Era, and I was only born twenty-three years ago. Even with the Dunmers' long lives, there had to have been plenty of other 'Incarnates' since then. I wasn't anything special at all, just the latest in a long line.

"So this means _I_ could fail as well?" I asked, feeling a cold sense of dread seep through me.

Peakstar shook her head gravely. "You are the Nerevarine. You are the Incarnate. You are the one. You _must_ not fail."

"But how can I possibly – "

"You bear the Moon-and-Star, the ring of Nerevar," she interrupted. "None may deny: you _are_ Nerevar Reborn, the prophesied Incarnate. The Temple will know you as an enemy, Ordinators will mark you for death, and the Tribunal Faithful of the Great Houses will hate and fear you. The doubters of the Tribes will test your strength and doubt your honour. You must prepare, and be ready."

Oh, wonderful. This was sounding better and better all the time. Maybe it was time to give that 'stowing away to Cyrodiil inside a cargo crate' idea another chance.

I took a deep breath. "What about Dagoth Ur? What do you mean by 'the Tribe Unmourned'?"

"Pity Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House," she said solemnly. "All they do, all they are is foul and evil, but they began in brightness and honour, and the cause of their fall was their loyal service to you, Lord Nerevar."

"But – "

"You told Lord Dagoth to guard the profane tools beneath Red Mountain, and thus he was tempted. He did your bidding when he tried to keep these tools from the Tribunal, and so he hates you, who betrayed him, and the Tribunal, who mocked his honour, attacked him, and stole the profane tools for their own use."

I didn't see any point in trying to argue. "OK, fine," I said wearily. "Yes, it was all my fault. Whatever. Is there anything at all you can do to help me?"

"Here, take these few poor things," she said, and a pile of clothes appeared in her arms, seemingly from nowhere. "They are of no use to me."

Gingerly I took the clothes from Peakstar's arms. There was an embroidered belt, and a pair of disgustingly dirty and stained pants which nevertheless had a useful-looking Levitation enchantment. Perhaps, if I washed them about twelve times first, I could actually find a use for them. Though hopefully not too often – I could just imagine myself struggling into the damn things every time I wanted to visit a Telvanni tower.

I went round to each of the ancestor ghosts in turn, and one by one they recited their tales of woe while piling my arms high with goodies: a mace, an axe, a couple of books, an enchanted robe and cuirass. By the time I reached the last one, my arms were so full that I could barely walk.

"I'll just leave some of this stuff here for the moment, guys," I said, staggering into a corner and dumping everything except the robe, belt, pants and books. "I can come and pick it up later, OK?" None of them seemed to care.

Rather than return to the Urshilaku camp immediately, I decided to go back to Ald'ruhn via Sadrith Mora. This was all getting a bit overwhelming, and I needed some time to think before I decided what to do next. The ghosts watched impassively as I struggled to cast Divine Intervention, probably thinking "Oh gods, the latest one can't even cast a bloody Intervention spell. Looks like we're going to be here for another few decades."

I still couldn't get over the fact that I was the reincarnation of Nerevar. What did it even _mean_, exactly? Did it mean that I didn't have a soul of my own, just an ancient Indoril warlord's soul inside me somewhere? I didn't like that idea at all. Or, worse, did it mean that at some point I'd suddenly turn _into_ Nerevar?

I glanced down hastily, and was relieved to see that my body at least had kept its usual shape. It might not be perfect, but I was kind of attached to it.

In any case, before I started getting all philosophical, I had more practical concerns to worry about. Firstly and most importantly: I was starting to run out of cash. The money Caius had left me had been very useful, but I'd already spent most of it by this point. I hadn't received any payment for my services to House Redoran and the Legions, and I'd actually _lost_ money on my last Fighters' Guild job.

I'd have to take more missions for the Guild, I thought. But if I was going to do that, I really needed to have a talk with Percius Mercius first.

From Wolverine Hall I took the Guild Guide to Ald'ruhn, where an ash storm was raging – was it just me, or were they getting more and more frequent lately? – and went to see Percius in the Fighters' Guild. He greeted me with a smile. "Good to see you again… Defender, is it? I heard from Lorbumol in Vivec."

"That's right."

"I haven't seen you in a while," he said, and then winked. "But I hear you've been busy with… other things."

My heart almost stopped. "Other… things?"

His smile grew wider. "Folks say you and young Varvur Sarethi have been seeing quite a lot of each other lately."

"_Varvur_?" I nearly burst out laughing, caught between relief and astonishment. "Me and Varvur Sarethi? Are you kidding?"

"It's not true, then?"

"Of course not." I shook my head in disbelief. "I mean, we've been on a few missions together, but… you can't be serious. Don't you think he's a bit out of my league?"

He laughed. "You can't have been in Ald'ruhn very long. From what I hear of Varvur, you wouldn't be the first young outlander woman he's been involved with."

"Gee, thanks," I said sourly. "So people are saying I'm his latest 'bit of rough', are they?" Could you even use that phrase to describe a woman? Well, at least it was better than having people think I was shacked up with bloody Caius Cosades.

"I don't think that's what they meant," he said. "But anyway, what are you here for? Need more work?"

I drew a deep breath. "Before you give me any more work, I think you need to explain to me what's going on in the Guild. I'm starting to get worried."

Percius screwed up his face. He mulled it over for a moment, scratching his head. "Tell you what," he said at last. "Go do some work for Hrundi in Sadrith Mora – he's a good man, and you can trust him. When you're a Guardian, come back and talk to me again, and I'll tell you what I know. I've been impressed with your work so far."

As I left the Guild, I found myself thinking over what Percius had said about Varvur Sarethi. I wasn't deaf or blind, and I certainly had suspected that Varvur might have a teensy tiny little crush on me – but it had never occurred to me to imagine it could actually lead to anything. He _was_ quite good-looking, now that I thought about it, though maybe a little young for m- hang on, what was I thinking? Even if he'd been the embodiment of my ideal man, there was no way I could start a love affair with the son of my Redoran sponsor.

It was probably for the best, I thought. Even in the unlikely event that the Sarethis approved of me dating their son, they'd probably want me to marry him and start popping out babies. I wasn't ready to settle down yet – I was a career girl. I had absolutely no desire to swan around all day in a palatial mansion, dressed only in the finest silks and satins, eating three- or four-course dinners every night, with a houseful of servants on hand to attend to my every whi- well, maybe it wouldn't be _quite_ so bad to be a nobleman's wife…

I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind, but annoyingly, I couldn't stop thinking about it now that Percius had put the idea in my head. I remembered the pretty Bosmer girl I'd seen in Sarethi Manor, and wondered if she was Varvur's girlfriend. Certainly the way they'd acted around each other suggested that there was _something_ between them.

A good monster-killing expedition was just what I needed to distract me from my hopeless love life, and Hrundi, the burly Nord in charge of the Sadrith Mora Fighters' Guild, had one ready and waiting. Apparently a woman named Larienna Macrina needed some help clearing necromancers out of a Dwemer ruin. When he showed me where it was on my map, I calculated that I'd just have time to fly out there before yesterday's Levitation spell wore off.

I left the hall and flew south until I reached the Dwemer ruin of Nchurdamz, not too far from the Shrine of Azura. A tough-looking Imperial woman, dressed in a Legion uniform, had set up camp just outside the entrance. She waved at me as I flew down to meet her. "Ho there, good friend!"

"Hello," I said. "Are you Larienna Macrina?"

She nodded. "You're one of Hrundi's band, aren't you? I can spot you a mile off. I've been waiting for some time now for assistance, but I suppose you will have to do."

'You will have to do'? She had some bloody nerve, speaking to me like that. "Are you in the Legion, by any chance?" I asked sharply.

"No. I was once, but I left some time ago." Ah.

"I'm on a quest to root out a great beast dwelling within these ruins," she went on. "You and I will explore together."

What? Hrundi had told me we were going after necromancers. "Hold on, a 'great beast'? I thought – "

"I have scoured the world over hunting a Daedroth named Hrelvesuu with whom I have had… issues… in the past. When last we battled, I struck her a blow so grievous that she fled via spell to her dark sanctuary. This is that place." Larienna gritted her teeth. "She is weak, and likely recuperating from the damage I caused her. This place is well defended and I need someone to watch my back. You can have whatever 'treasure' you can find in there – I seek only vengeance. What say you?"

My heart sank as I saw the crazed gleam in her eye. I didn't like getting involved in personal vendettas, for all sorts of reasons, but now that I was here I couldn't exactly turn back. "All right," I said, stifling a sigh.

"Then let's go. Remember, let me know if you require aid – you watch my back and I'll watch yours. Take point and root out the threats."

"What sort of threats do you think we'll face?"

"Dwemer centurions, mainly. Have you ever fought one before?" I shook my head. "Well, you'll soon get used to it, haha. Oh… and Hrelvesuu, of course. Remember, the treasure is yours – but she is mine."

The large room inside the entrance to Nchurdamz looked like it had once been some kind of dining hall. The first thing I saw was a sort of huge mechanical spider, scuttling across the floor on six spindly legs. It's a good thing I'd seen Dwemer constructs before, otherwise I'd have been utterly terrified at being attacked by a giant metal spider. I froze, unsure how to tackle one of those things with a sword, until Larienna stepped forward and fried it with a powerful blast of shock magicka.

Almost immediately, a large metal ball in the corner of the room unfolded itself into a Centurion and came rolling towards us. "Attack the joints," Larienna called from behind me. "Those are the weakest parts."

As the Centurion lunged at me with a club-like arm, I dodged around it and chopped at the exposed shoulder joint with my sword. A couple of hefty blows cleaved its arm from its shoulder in a shower of sparks. Wasting no time, I slashed at its neck from behind, severing the head from its body and causing it to collapse in what looked strangely like death throes. I'd have been creeped out if I'd had time to think about it.

Larienna and I advanced through the Dwemer ruin, fighting off more of the strange mechanical guardians as we went. It felt strange to be taking orders again, but Larienna was a competent fighter despite her unhealthy obsession with Hrelv… er, the Daedroth. "I can smell the stench of the Daedroth," she hissed, as we moved deeper into the complex. "It is here, and I will find it!"

Down a flight of steps, we came across a room with the obligatory open lava pool in the middle. (It made me wonder what on Nirn they used those things for, and how many Dwemer kids had lost their lives accidentally falling into them.) The entrance was guarded by an extra-large Centurion, which puffed steam as it walked and took a heavy beating from both of us before it went down. But the only thing we found in the room was a rusty key inside an old chest.

Down a passage off to the right, and up another stairway, was a round metal door which was locked and magically trapped. When I pressed my ear against the door, I could hear strange snuffling sounds from the room beyond it. Larienna clapped a hand on my shoulder, making me jump.

"The beast is near now – very near," she whispered. "Be on your guard."

I still couldn't shake the feeling that this was a bad idea, but I shrugged it off as best I could, and took the key we'd found earlier from my pouch. Very carefully, I slid it into the lock and turned it as quietly as possible. It worked; the door slid open – and that was when Larienna completely lost her head.

The Daedroth Hrelvesuu was standing in a corner of the room, facing away from us. With a little care we might have taken her down without her even realising we were there – but that was far too subtle for Larienna, apparently. "Hrelvesuu, I have come for you!" she roared, shoving me aside just as I was starting to creep through the door. "Show yourself!"

Before I had the chance to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, I heard her yell out the words to a spell. A massive bolt of shock magicka crackled through the air, hitting everything within a ten-foot radius – me included. The force of the blast literally knocked me to the ground.

Moaning with pain, I rolled away to the side – as far away from Larienna as possible – and lay there, curled up into a tight ball, as she and Hrelvesuu lobbed spells at each other. My hands, arms and legs felt numb, and I could barely even hear the sounds of battle over the ringing in my ears.

At long last the booms and crashes died down a bit, and I realised that someone had probably won the fight. I cautiously opened my eyes to see Larienna standing over me. "Oops," she said. "Sorry."

"You _idiot_!" I growled, struggling into a sitting position. "You could have killed me!"

"I'm very sorry. I got a little… carried away." Sheesh, that was the understatement of the decade. "Would you like me to heal you?"

"No!" I didn't want her casting any more spells anywhere near me, thank you very much. "I'll do it myself." I tried to cast a healing spell, but I could still hardly move my fingers. "Sod it, I'll take a potion."

The one good thing to come out of that mission to Nchurdamz was the treasure I found there in Hrelvesuu's lair. The crates and barrels lining the walls contained several valuable gems, which would fetch quite a lot from an alchemist. Once we'd cleaned out the room, Larienna and I parted company – apparently she 'felt uneasy' about something or other and wanted to investigate the ruins further. I was quite happy to let her.

I teleported back to Sadrith Mora and handed in Larienna's report to Hrundi, who paid me 500 septims and promoted me to Warder – just one rank below Guardian. He had some more missions for me in the towns of Vos and Tel Mora, up on the north-eastern coast, but I didn't fancy making the six-day round trip again right now. After selling my gems to a Mages' Guild alchemist I had nearly 1,000 septims in all, easily enough to tide me over for the next few weeks.

Following a hot bath and a good night's sleep in Wolverine Hall, I woke up feeling a lot calmer and less overwhelmed. I was just about ready to face Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa again and tell them the… well, I _hoped_ they would see it as good news. It would be a bit embarrassing if I walked in there proudly showing off my Moon-and-Star ring, only for them to go, "Crap, you don't mean you're SERIOUS?"

I Recalled to the Urshilaku camp, and was glad to find that the weather there was clear for once, though it was cold and overcast. As I walked through the camp, I spotted a familiar face – the guy who'd made me grub up trama root for him on my first visit to the camp. He smiled at me, but once again I could see a hint of mockery in his eyes.

"I hear rumours, favoured guest," he said in a low voice, falling into step beside me. "I hear the Outlander earns honour and hospitality of the tribe. I hear the Outlander makes claim to be named 'Nerevarine'."

"And?"

He shook his head. "The people respect their ashkhan and wise woman. But these are strange tidings, and hard to believe."

It's not often you get such a perfect opportunity for revenge. I could hardly keep myself from grinning as I removed my left gauntlet and casually stretched out my hand, showing off the Moon-and-Star on my finger. "This mean anything to you?"

For a moment he just stared at it blankly, and then, slowly, the colour began to drain from his face. "The Moon-and-Star," he said hoarsely. "Then… then the stories are true. But how can you…" I could see him trying to grapple with the ludicrous notion that an outlander, an _Imperial_ outlander, could actually be the Nerevarine.

"You know what, Shabinbael?" I said, suddenly remembering his name. "I don't know why, but I have this _strange_ craving for trama root all of a sudden. Perhaps you could go and dig some up for me?"

His face was an absolute picture. "I – Of course, Clanfriend."

Bwahaha. It was mean, I know, but I just couldn't resist. Ah, sweet sweet revenge.

By contrast, Nibani Maesa's reaction was surprisingly calm. All she did was examine the ring, and ask me to describe what I'd seen and heard in the Cavern of the Incarnate. "It is as I have seen in my dream," she said, when I'd explained everything. "It is a true dream, sent from Azura to guide me."

"So what do I do now?"

"You must go to Ashkhan Sul-Matuul to be named Urshilaku Nerevarine. I am confident that he will approve you, but I am sure he has things he wishes to say beforehand."

Nibani turned to be right about that. Sul-Matuul might have been skeptical up to now, but all that vanished instantly the moment I showed him the ring. "You wear the Moon-and-Star of Nerevar. This is a true sign. This is a miracle, a blessing of Azura, and no man may deny it."

"So you'd be willing to declare me the Nerevarine?"

He nodded. "You have passed the Third Trial, but the Fourth and Fifth Trials lie before you. I have spoken with Nibani Maesa, and I know these Trials. You wish to be called Urshilaku Nerevarine – but first, would you hear the counsel of Sul-Matuul?"

I needed all the help I could get, frankly. "Okay."

"Good. First, I would give you warning. When you are called 'Nerevarine', the word must spread, and many must hear. Your enemies will hear, and come seeking your blood. And such friends as you may have among the Great Houses, those who heed the words of the Temple, they may forget their love for you. If you have business with the People of the Houses and Temple, you may wish to conduct that business first, before you are named Nerevarine."

I winced, remembering that Peakstar had said the same thing. "What sort of business do you mean?"

"The Fourth Trial is to join the three Great Houses of Vvardenfell under one Hortator. You must be named Hortator in turn by Houses Redoran, Hlaalu, and Telvanni."

'Hortator'? I'd heard that word before. "Forgive my ignorance, Ashkhan… but what exactly _is_ a Hortator?"

"A Hortator is a war leader. When a greater enemy threatens, the Great Houses put aside their quarrels and choose a Hortator, a single war leader to lead all the Houses. Only a Great House council can name a Hortator, and all councils must agree."

My mouth fell open. "You want me to ask the Great House councils to make me their _war leader_?"

Sul-Matuul nodded. "Prove to them that Dagoth Ur threatens. When you are named Redoran Hortator, Hlaalu Hortator, and Telvanni Hortator, only then will you be the Hortator named in prophecy."

"Anything _else_?" I gasped, fighting back a wave of hysteria. What would I be asked to do next: travel to the moons and back? Take on a Daedric Prince in single combat? Persuade an Imperial tax official to give me a refund?

"The Fifth Trial is to join the four tribes of the Ashlanders under the Nerevarine. They must put aside pride and tribal squabbles and together face the blighted hosts of Dagoth Ur. The Urshilaku shall name you Nerevarine, but the others may be more cautious." He let this sink in. "Do you wish me to call you Nerevarine?"

I was about to say "no", remembering what he'd said about finishing my business with the Houses first, when I remembered that I'd just told Shabinbael my secret out of pure spite. No doubt it'd be all over the camp by now – and while the Urshilaku probably didn't get out much, it couldn't be too long before the story reached the cities as well. Talos, what a _fucking_ idiot I was.

Well, might as well get it over with. "Yes, Ashkhan," I said quietly. "I would like you to name me Nerevarine."

"So be it," he said, a solemn expression on his face. "Before my hearth and kin, and before the People of the Wastes, I name you Urshilaku Nerevarine, War Leader of the Urshilaku, and Protector of the People. In token of this I give you the Teeth, which shall be a sign to all Dunmer that you are the Nerevarine, and that the Urshilaku shall follow you in all things, even unto death, until the Enemy is defeated, or you are dead, or you give this back into my hand."

He laid an enchanted necklace of made of teeth around my shoulders. "You shall be Nerevarine of all the tribes, and Hortator of all the Great Houses," he continued. "You shall eat the sin of the unmourned house, and free the false gods. You must defeat the Sixth House, and Dagoth Ur. You must free the Tribunal from their curse. This shall be your duty as Urshilaku Nerevarine."

Five minutes later I wandered out of the tent, feeling like I'd been hit over the head with the flat of Sul-Matuul's battle axe. What was I going to do now? How was I even supposed to _start_ the task of persuading every House and Ashlander tribe in Morrowind to declare me their war leader? And even supposing I somehow managed that, what was I going to do when they expected me to actually go and confront Dagoth Ur?

I tried to picture myself as a messiah figure, uniting the tribes of Morrowind under a single banner, boldly defying the might of the Dunmer authorities in defence of my beliefs. It wasn't easy, I must say.

Shabinbael approached me as I walked to the edge of the camp, handfuls of grubby roots in each hand. "Here is the trama root you asked for, Nerevarine."

"Um?" I said. "Oh, er, yes. Thanks." I took the roots from him and wandered off to cast an Almsivi Intervention spell, still in a daze.

As I rode the silt strider from Gnisis to Ald'ruhn that night, I decided that there was only one thing to do: go to Athyn Sarethi and confess everything. Well, nearly everything. It was a risky move – for all I knew, he might go straight to the Temple to report me as a False Incarnate – but he _did_ owe me a favour, and he was the closest thing I had to a mentor now that Caius was gone. And if anyone could help me get started on the near-impossible task of becoming Redoran Hortator, it was him.

The first thing I did when I got back to Ald'ruhn was teleport to Vivec and go to my bank, where I collected Azura's Star from my deposit box. My reasoning was that if I showed it to Athyn, to prove that I was on friendly terms with Azura, he might be more willing to believe my Nerevarine tale. As I walked through Vivec, once again I had that uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Maybe I really was going mad, I thought – after all, if anyone ever had an excuse…

I deposited some of the money I'd earned and then returned to Ald'ruhn, where I walked up to Skar to visit Athyn. My heart was thumping violently, and by the time I reached the door of Sarethi Manor, I was starting to seriously doubt whether this was a good idea.

How did I know I was the Nerevarine? Because Azura had told me. But how could I be sure _she_ was telling the truth? I wouldn't normally pay much attention to the ravings of a giant tentacle monster, but I couldn't help remembering what Dagoth Ulen had said about the Daedra Lords, and their habit of screwing around with mortals for their own amusement.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A servant let me in and escorted me to Athyn, who was in his study. "Ah, you've returned!" he said, rising to greet me with a smile. "But you look very pale, Ada. Are you unwell?"

"No, I'm fine, I just… Athyn, what can you tell me about Azura?"

"The Lady of Twilight?" He frowned. "The Temple calls her one of the Good Daedra, and indeed, it is said she is the only one who shows compassion to her mortal followers. But I fear that like the other Princes, she is not to be trusted. Why are you asking me this?"

I hesitated, wondering where to begin. "You have cause to fear her?" Athyn said gently, his eyes fixed on my face. "You think you have displeased her somehow, perhaps?"

"No, not at all," I said. "Quite the opposite, actually. Look, maybe I'd better start at the beginning."

I told him all about my visit to Azura's shrine, the task she'd asked me – okay, _commanded_ me – to perform for her, and how she'd rewarded me with her Star. Although he didn't say anything, I'm not sure he actually believed me until I took the Star out of my pack and showed it to him. He looked at it for a long time, turning it over in his hands and stroking the surface.

"I see," he said at last. "Well, my friend, it would seem you have the Lady's favour. I suggest you take care not to lose it."

"But the thing is, there's more. Lots more." I could feel my heart fluttering wildly. "I – "

Suddenly I began to feel very strange. My first thought was that I must be sickening for something, the second that the floor suddenly seemed a lot closer than usual. I think I must actually have blacked out for a few seconds, because the next thing I knew I was sitting in a chair with a worried-looking Athyn staring down at me.

"Ada, you are _not_ well. You are exhausted. What have you been doing these past few days?" He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Go home, and go to bed. Whatever you have to tell me can wait until tomorrow."

"No, no, it can't. It's _important_." I tried to get up out of the chair, but my limbs seemed to have turned to jelly all of a sudden. Ye gods, I really _was_ exhausted.

I reached for my pack, which had fallen to the ground, and groped around for a stamina potion. Athyn watched in concern as I lifted it to my lips with both hands and gulped down the contents. "What, then, is so important?"

I had no idea if Athyn had even heard of the Nerevarine prophecies, but there was only one way to find out. Wordlessly I held up my hand to him, my fourth finger slightly raised, letting the Moon-and-Star sparkle in the light.

Athyn's brows shot up, and I heard him draw in breath sharply. He took my hand and lifted it up so that he could examine the ring more closely. I could only hope he'd realise it was an ancient relic, not just a fake knocked up by some dodgy enchanter.

"The moon and star," he murmured. "The mark of Nerevar."

"That's right." I closed my eyes and clasped my hands together on the desk, preparing for the worst. "Athyn… I think I may be the Nerevarine."


	27. Chapter 27: The GoBetween

**Chapter 27: The Go-Between**

There was a long silence. I opened my eyes to see Athyn staring down at me, his expression impossible to read.

"Very well," he said at last. "Tell me your story."

So I told him, right from the beginning. About the strange visions of Dagoth Ur, the bizarre side effects of corprus disease, the Dissident Priests, the Third Trial, and the Cavern of the Incarnate. I told him about my visits to the Ashlanders, and showed him the prophecies of the Stranger and the Seven Visions and the Lost Prophecies, as well as the tokens the Urshilaku had given me. And I told him what Sul-Matuul had told me, about needing to become Hortator and Nerevarine of every House and tribe on Vvardenfell.

And Athyn just listened, quietly, as always. I kept expecting him to start yelling for the guards, but he barely spoke except to ask me to go on.

"I know it all sounds completely insane and unbelievable," I finished, close to tears. "I spent weeks and weeks telling myself that none of this could possibly be true, but I can't help it – it _is_ true. And I had to tell you, because… well, if you don't believe me, who will?"

There was an agonisingly long pause. I cringed, waiting for the inevitable outburst. And then Athyn said, "I believe you."

"You... you do?" I could hardly breathe.

He nodded. "I believe, at least, that you have told me the truth. And that you are sincere in believing yourself to be the Nerevarine. But, Ada…" He sighed. "I must tell you that others will not be so easily convinced. You must know that the Temple regards all such claims as blasphemy."

"I know," I whispered.

"And as for the tasks you face, uniting the Houses… I cannot see how to achieve this. There may, perhaps, be a way for you to become Redoran Hortator… but the Hlaalu and Telvanni? They surely would never appoint a Redoran to that position."

Another seemingly endless silence followed. "What shall I do?" I asked, in a small voice.

"Firstly, I think you should tell no one else about this. Concentrate on your duties to Redoran, and to the Legion and guilds, if you wish. The higher you rise in the House, and the greater your reputation, the easier it will be to convince the other Councillors." I nodded. "The story must spread, of course, but it will certainly be best if you can first gain the support of the House."

"What do I need to do to rise in the House?"

"To become a House Father, you must earn the support of at least two of the Councilmen. And you must also build a stronghold."

I blinked. "A _stronghold_?"

"A stronghold."

I stared at him in bewilderment, wondering whether we understood the same thing by the word 'stronghold'. "You mean… an actual _stronghold_? With… walls, and guards, and… stuff?"

"Yes, my friend, that sort of stronghold."

Maybe it was Athyn who'd gone mad, not me. What did he expect me to do, dig one out with my bare hands? "I'm not wealthy, Athyn," I said. "You do know that, don't you? Don't get me wrong, I'd _love_ to have my own stronghold, but…"

He nodded sympathetically. "I understand, _muthsera_, but it is necessary for your advancement in the House. I'm not sure how much it will cost, but you should speak with Galsa Gindu in the Council hall; she can contract to build strongholds. As for the Councillors, I would start by speaking with Mistress Brara Morvayn and Hlaren Ramoran."

"Where can I find them?"

"Mistress Morvayn moved into temporary quarters in the Redoran Council Hall after blighted creatures attacked her manor and killed her husband. And Hlaren Ramoran's manor is between my home and the entrance to Skar." He smiled. "He has a temper, especially with foreigners, but he trusts my judgement. I believe I can convince him to support us."

For the first time since being declared Nerevarine, I felt my heart lift a little. _Us_. We were a team, Athyn and I.

"Okay, I'll do that," I said. "And Athyn… thank you. Thank you so much for believing me, and for helping me. I just don't have words to…" Oh gods, I was crying again.

"You rescued my son. I have not forgotten." He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Now go home and rest. You have a difficult task ahead of you, Ada."

I took his advice and returned to the Fighters' Guild, too tired to do anything except fall into bed and sleep for the rest of the day. It hadn't really occurred to me before now, but I really had been pushing myself incredibly hard over the last few days… weeks… well, months, to be quite honest. Perhaps I ought to let up for a while, but I didn't see how I could with everything I had on my plate.

It was midday the next day when I finally woke up – nearly twenty-four hours later. If any ash zombies had come to attack me they'd had found me an easy target, but for some reason, they hadn't. I remembered Caius talking about them being controlled by Sixth House cults, and then recalled the shrine I'd found in that Ashlander woman's house while investigating Varvur's ash statue. Perhaps I'd destroyed the local Sixth House base, and that was why the creatures had stopped attacking me here?

I felt dim and groggy after such a long sleep, but I couldn't sit around – I had business to be getting on with. A bath and a meal left me feeling a little more awake, and I spent some time wondering what to do first: talk to the Councillors, or go to Galsa Gindu to discuss strongholds. Eventually I settled on the former, because I still couldn't for the life of me see how I could afford to have a stronghold built (let alone pay for all the guards and servants a place like that would need). Short of robbing the Vivec treasuries, or having a long-lost wealthy relative die and leave me a fortune, I couldn't see any solution.

I decided to visit Brara Morvayn first – after all, we women had to stick together. She was living in what you'd call 'reduced circumstances', namely a small and cramped apartment in the Redoran council hall. When I met her I was surprised by how young she looked, despite the deep grief etched into her face.

"My husband Remas was a Councillor of House Redoran," she told me. "He died defending our manor from blighted monsters, and I now hold his seat on the Council. Did Athyn Sarethi send you here to get my support?"

I nodded. "Well, I will support you, even though you are an outlander, if you help clear the beasts from Morvayn Manor."

"What happened to the manor?"

"My husband died defending it from misshapen beasts that came through the Ghostfence. He believed that the beasts were attracted by a statue we received a few weeks before the attacks began."

That sounded horribly familiar. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Almost a year ago."

"A _year_?" I said in shock. "And no one's cleared the beasts out of the manor yet?"

"Everyone is terrified of being infected with corprus disease," she explained. "But Athyn tells me you have recovered from the disease, and become immune to it. I'm not sure I believe this, but if you will enter my house and remove the ash statue, I will give you my support on the Council."

She gave me a key to Morvayn Manor, and told me I should bring the ash statue to the priest Lloros Sarano so that he could destroy it. After that I set out for Morvayn manor, which was on the eastern side of town, near the Temple. I wondered why the Morvayns were the only Redoran family not to have a manor under Skar.

The inside of the house was dark and creepy. In the main entrance hall, a table was set for dinner, left exactly as it had been when the house was abandoned. It saddened me to think how beautiful the place must have been before it was invaded by corprus beasts.

I searched through the lower rooms of the house, noting the overturned furniture and household items scattered over the floor. The corprus stalkers didn't pose much of a threat now that I was immune to the disease – they were strong, but slow and clumsy. Far more scary were the red candles they had placed everywhere and the Sixth House symbols scrawled all over the walls and floor. I even found the body of Remas Morvayn, gruesome but surprisingly well-preserved – he must have been infected with corprus before he died.

Finally I found the ash statue on top of a crate. I took it to Lloros Sarano at the Temple, who promised to destroy it, and went back to Brara Morvayn to tell her the good news. She promised me her support, and despite my protests, insisted on giving me an amulet as a reward. I was going to be able to open my own jewellery store at this rate.

Next up was Hlaren Ramoran. On entering his manor I noticed that it was rather larger and more luxurious than the Sarethis', though not quite as grand as Bolvyn Venim's. When I reached Ramoran's private quarters, I found that he was busy and couldn't see me immediately. Instead I had to deal with a female bodyguard, Nalvyna Sarinith, who seemed very protective of her Lord and glared at me suspiciously the whole time.

Only when I asked her what it was like working for Ramoran did she finally relax a little. "He is a kind and noble man," she told me. "I swore an oath to serve him, but sometimes it is difficult... It is a great honour, one I struggle to live with every day."

I was about to ask her what she meant by that, when Hlaren's previous visitor came out of his study. Leaving my weapons with the suspicious Nalvyna, I went in to see the Councillor.

Hlaren Ramoran was the oldest of the Councillors I'd met so far. Although I couldn't see any signs of the bad temper Athyn had mentioned, he did seem a little distracted by something or other. "So you want my support on the Council?" he said at last, when I explained what I was here for. "Very well, I shall grant support to an outlander, if she can prove herself. First, I need someone to collect the taxes from Gnisis."

Collect the _taxes_? That seemed like an insanely simple task for a potential House Father – not that I was complaining, of course. "My regular tax collector has fallen ill," he continued, "but the duties are quite simple. Speak with Hetman Abelmawia and get the taxes from him, then bring them back to me."

Ah, I knew this old trick. The Hetman would give me the taxes, along with a letter for Ramoran. Then when I arrived back in Ald'ruhn, it would turn out there was a 'shortfall' in the amount he'd given me, and I'd have to make it up out of my own funds to prove my honesty.

Well, I wasn't falling for that. "How much should the taxes be this month?" I asked innocently.

"There should be sixty drakes in all."

I hesitated, still convinced that this had to be some kind of trick. It was just too easy. "So what's the catch?"

"The catch?" he said, looking confused.

"That's really all you want me to do, collect the taxes? No peasant rebellions or mad Telvanni wizards to deal with or anything?"

"No, _sera_, nothing like that." He was starting to look a little impatient. "It is a simple enough task, is it not?"

I decided to leave before he got fed up and decided he wouldn't support me after all. On the way to the silt strider port, I realised that I didn't have to travel that way – I could get to Gnisis immediately by casting Recall to the Urshilaku camp followed by an Intervention spell. But the moment I arrived in the camp I was spotted by the trader Kurapli, who rushed up and flung her arms around me. "It is Ada! Nerevarine!"

Of course, there was no getting away after that. The Ashlanders insisted that I stay for dinner, and I really didn't have the heart to refuse. I don't know exactly what was in the stew they served me, and I'm not entirely sure I want to – all I can say is that it tasted rather better than it looked.

I must say that for once it was nice to be treated with awe and admiration, rather than hostility and suspicion. The tribesmen bombarded me with questions about my visits to Lost Kogoruhn and the Cavern of the Incarnate. They wanted to know how my Nerevarine quest was going, and whether I'd managed to convince any Great House councillors to declare me Hortator. I told them I was 'working on it'.

The days were getting shorter and shorter as winter rolled in, and by the time I arrived Gnisis it had been dark for several hours. I only just had time to grab the taxes from Hetman Abelmawia before catching the silt strider, though I did count them carefully first – sixty drakes in all, as Lord Ramoran had said.

On the journey back, I kept myself amused reading the books that the ancestor ghosts had given me. One of them was called _Sithis_ and was completely unintelligible; the other was part of a series called the _36 Lessons of Vivec_ – supposedly written by Vivec himself – and somehow managed to be even _more_ unintelligible. As far as I could tell, it seemed to be describing a highly intimate encounter between Vivec and Molag Bal – the Daedra Lord known as the 'King of Rape'. On second thoughts, it's probably a good thing I didn't understand any more of it.

I showed up punctually at Ramoran Manor the morning after arriving back in Ald'ruhn, and handed over the taxes. I still couldn't understand why he would bother testing me this way – had he really thought I would risk my position in the House for just sixty drakes? If so, he had to have a pretty poor opinion of outlanders. Or perhaps just of me.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Lord Ramoran?" I asked politely.

"Yes, I have another favour to ask." Aha! I knew it.

"In my youth, I was involved with a woman named Nalvilie Saren," he continued. "I was quite… fond of her, and have often wondered what happened to her." To my astonishment, I realised that he was blushing. "Would you be willing to seek her out for me?"

I stared at him, fighting a sudden urge to laugh. Was he serious? He was offering me his support on the Council… in return for tracking down his old girlfriend? I wasn't sure whether to find that hilarious, or rather sweet.

"Of course, _serjo_," I said meekly, trying desperately to keep a tremor of laughter out of my voice. "Where should I start looking?"

"I believe the Saren family lives in the Redoran Compound in Vivec," he said. "That may be a good place to start. When you find her, tell that I do not care what happened in the past, and that I can support her. Invite her to meet with me here in Ald'ruhn."

Ooh. There was some kind of story there, clearly.

Somehow I made it out of the door of Ramoran Manor before giving in to a fit of the giggles. The nearby guards and passers-by looked at me as if I were mad. Well, they'd have plenty more reasons to think so before the month was up.

As I was entering the Mages Guild to travel to Vivec, I was waylaid by Edwinna Elbert, who was carrying a book under her arm. "Ah, Ada!" she exclaimed. "I was hoping you would drop by. I have finished my study of _Chimarvamidium_."

For a moment I wasn't sure what she was talking about, and then I remembered that this was the book she'd asked me to, ahem, 'borrow' for her. "Was it any help?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Can you believe this isn't about a Dwemer construct at all? This book was completely useless. In any case, I need you to return it before Sirilonwe suspects anything."

"Oh, no. Edwinna, I can't – "

"Of course you can!" she interrupted. I looked around desperately for a way to escape, but she was already pressing the book into my hands. "Take it back to the Mages Guild in Vivec, and make sure you put it back exactly where you found it."

Mentally swearing never under any circumstances to do another favour for Edwinna, I stuffed the book into my pack and went on to speak with the Guild Guide. Over in the Vivec guild, I was forced to ask Sirilonwe for another random spell to give me a shot at putting the book back. Luckily she didn't seem to have noticed it was missing, and all I had to do was slip back into the closet and place it in the opened chest. Being thrown in jail for stealing would have been a pretty dismal end to my Nerevarine aspirations.

After that I set out for the Redoran canton, which luckily was right next to the Foreign Quarter. All I had to do was walk over a bridge and I was there. I discovered that the Saren manor was in the plaza on top of the canton, so I made my way there, hoping Nalvilie would be at home.

No such luck, unfortunately. When I spoke to Arns Saren, the lady of the manor, her face went suddenly rigid at the mention of Nalvilie's name. "She is no longer my daughter."

"I… I'm sorry? Do you mean she's _dead_?"

She shook her head grimly. "She has disgraced our family. I will not say more."

I was just wondering how to proceed from here when a wealthy-looking nobleman, presumably Arns' husband, entered the room. "Ah, a visitor," he said with a polite smile. "I am Toris Saren. How can I help you, outlander?"

His wife murmured something to him in Dunmeris. All I could catch was the word 'Nalvilie', but the smile instantly vanished from Saren's face. "Nalvilie Saren is disgraced, as my wife has told you. Please do not remind us of this."

"I understand, _serjo_," I said – though I didn't, of course – "but I do need to speak to her on a very important matter. If she isn't here, could you at least give me some idea of where to find her?"

The two of them exchanged glances, and eventually Toris heaved a sigh. "If I tell you, will you leave here and promise to never mention the subject in my presence again?"

"Of course."

"Very well. Nalvilie owns a consignment shop on the south-side canals of the St. Olms Canton. She is disgraced, and she disgraces any who speak with her." He said this with an extremely pointed stare. "Now, please leave as you promised."

_Sheesh_, I thought, as I left the manor. What the heck was going on with the Saren family? I wondered just what sort of hideous crime I would have to commit to make my own parents disown me like that. Even if they'd known about my arrest for murder, I couldn't imagine them telling people that I was no longer their daughter.

I took a gondola to the St Olms canton, and eventually found Nalvilie in one of the canalside slum houses. Calling it a 'slum' was actually a bit unfair – the one-room house was small and simply furnished, but clean and tidy. Even so, it was a massive step down from the grandeur of Saren Manor.

Nalvilie herself was a middle-aged woman with a hard look about her. She might have been attractive when she was younger, but her recent life had clearly put paid to that. She was polite enough at first, but the moment I mentioned Hlaren Ramoran, her brows shot up in disbelief. "What? You say that Hlaren Ramoran wants to meet with me, even if it would disgrace him?"

"Er, yes, that's – "

"No, even now that I will not do. I never liked the way he kept hanging around like a lost scrib." She scowled. "Tell him once more that my answer is still no."

I tried to protest, but she just shook her head contemptuously. "I do not care what Hlaren Ramoran might have to say. I will not see him. That is final."

As you can imagine, by this time I was dying to know what had happened between the two of them – but I couldn't exactly ask, could I? All I could do was leave and return to Ald'ruhn in the knowledge that I'd failed. I hoped Ramoran would understand. After all, it really wasn't my fault if Nalvilie refused point-blank to even consider seeing him.

At least Edwinna was pleased to hear that I'd returned _Chimarvamidium_. In return she gave me some amulets with Divine and Almsivi Intervention enchantments – which were pretty darn useful right now, I had to admit. Even so, I decided not to ask her for any more duties; I was in enough trouble already.

After lunch I went to see Lord Ramoran. He was busy again, so I had to wait outside with his bodyguard Nalvyna, who was keen to know what sort of tasks he'd asked me to do. "She has disgraced herself and her family," she said, when I told her about Nalvilie. "I do not understand why my Lord would still wish to find her after the way she treated him. Sometimes I wish..." She hesitated. "But no, it would not be proper."

I stared at her, suspicion gradually dawning on me. So it was like _that_, was it? Well, well. Admittedly I couldn't imagine how anyone could find Hlaren Ramoran attractive, even by Dunmer standards, but I guess there's no accounting for taste.

Just then I was called into Hlaren's study, so I didn't have any more time to talk with Nalvyna. "Have you been to Vivec?" he asked eagerly, as soon as I entered. "Do you have word from Nalvilie Saren?"

I looked into his wrinkled, hopeful face, and I just couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth. "She's… dead," I told him, chickening out completely. "I'm so sorry, _serjo_."

"She… is dead?"

I nodded, hoping he'd never find out the truth. If he did, I could just claim that was what her family had told me – it was plausible enough, given the way they'd reacted…

Hlaren lowered his eyes to his desk, staring at his hands. "I am saddened to hear this, but perhaps it is for the best," he said at last, his voice thick. "Well, you did what you could. I will give you my support on the council."

Poor guy, he looked so sad. I really should have just left well alone, but I couldn't help myself.

"Lord Ramoran," I said. "I know it's really none of my business, but… have you ever thought of looking for a wife closer to home?"

The moment the words were out of my mouth, I instantly regretted them. Luckily Ramoran didn't seem to take offence; perhaps he was just too downcast. "Of course," he said, with a shrug and a sad smile. "But I fear it is too late now. What woman could care for an old fool like me?"

"You don't look old to me," I said, lying through my teeth. "And I think there _is_ someone who cares for you. Nalvyna Sarinith, your bodyguard."

"_Nalvyna_?" He looked genuinely astonished. "She is an excellent warrior, and has served me faithfully for several years. But…"

"I've talked to her, and she seems very fond of you. Not that she said anything," I added hastily, "but… well, you know. We women can sense these things."

Hlaren was silent for several seconds as he digested this. "She... I... Hmm. I don't know what to say." He shook his head. "Perhaps if I were younger... if it weren't so improper..."

"Do these things really matter so much?" I asked, deciding that having come this far there was no point in backing down. "You were willing to meet with Nalvilie, _serjo_, even if it would have disgraced you…"

"True, I did not care so much for propriety when pursuing Nalvilie Saren." He nodded slowly. "Very well, I will consider what you have said. I thank you, _sera_."

I thanked him politely in return and left the room, quite astonished at how well that had gone. Apparently I'd just discovered a new talent: matchmaking.

With the support of two of the Councillors, all I needed now was a stronghold. And a pretty big 'all' it was. I knew perfectly well that I couldn't afford it, and even if I could, I wouldn't know the first thing about how to build one. All I could do was go to Galsa Gindu and hope she'd give me some idea of where to start.

Galsa's house in the Council Hall was filled with architectural books and papers. She certainly seemed to know her stuff, and to my surprise, she didn't simply burst out laughing when I told her that I needed a stronghold. "Certainly," she said, "but I will need 5,000 drakes for labour and materials."

I was even more surprised to hear her name such a low price. It was still more than I could afford, but not nearly as much as I had expected. Not that I knew much about the building trade, but I'd hardly have thought you could build a cottage for 5,000 septims.

"Only 5,000 drakes?" I asked. "Nothing else?"

"You must also bring me a construction contract from Duke Dren in Ebonheart. Here on Vvardenfell, the Duke must issue a construction contract before we lay the first founding stones for any building. This rule is often overlooked by the Hlaalu and Telvanni, but House Redoran is honourable, and I will not break these rules."

Well, that didn't sound too bad, though I had no idea whether Dren would be willing to issue a contract or not. Being Imperial, though, I had plenty of experience dealing with bureaucracy. I just hoped he wouldn't ask for more money to 'speed up the planning process'.

I asked where the stronghold would be built, and she told me there was a suitable site at a place called 'Bal Isra'. When she showed me where it was on the map, my heart sank. It was miles away from Ald'ruhn, right out in the Ashlands – just about the least convenient place she could possibly have chosen. Why anyone would want a stronghold built _there_ was beyond me.

Still, none of that would matter unless I could somehow raise 5,000 septims within the next few days. I considered the problem over dinner at the Rat in the Pot, and concluded that I had two options: take out a loan, or find a way to sell Sheogorath's ring. There were a few other things I could sell, but none of them would fetch the money I needed.

I decided to visit my bank manager first thing the next morning. After washing down my meal with a glass or two of wine, I was just preparing to leave when a slightly-too-loud conversation at a nearby table caught my ear.

"Have you heard the latest?" a male voice was saying. "They say that another outlander is claiming to be the Nerevarine."

My hand jerked so violently that I nearly knocked over my glass. There was a chorus of groans from his companions. "Not another one! Who is it this time?"

"I'm not sure. I only heard it from some drunken _f'lah_ who'd been speaking to an even more drunken Ashlander. All I know is that they're saying it's a woman."

"Big deal," said someone else. "'Lord Nerevar is coming back to save Morrowind.' About time, I say. Where was he when the Empire walked in here and took over?" There were murmurs of agreement.

I didn't dare to move, or even look at the other patrons. My face felt as hot as fire, and at every moment I was terrified that someone would look over and go "There she is!" Finally, after what seemed like an age, the conversation drifted on to other topics.

I leaned back in my seat, my heart thumping wildly. After months of treating the whole business like a kind of game, it was gradually starting to sink in that things were getting really serious now, and I couldn't keep this a secret for ever. If I wanted to fulfil the trials, at some point I was going to have to come out and openly declare myself the Nerevarine – and a whole lot of people were going to be _really_ angry with me. The Temple authorities in particular would be anything but pleased to have to deal with another 'False Incarnate'.

Could I do it, I wondered? Was I really cut out to be the saviour of Morrowind?

Now I won't get all self-righteous and pretend I didn't want to be a hero – as far as I was concerned, if I could help people and win fame and fortune in the process, so much the better. But this particular kind of heroism – the saving-the-world, uniting-the-people-against-a-common-threat type – wasn't in my style at all. Certainly I'd come to feel some sympathy for the people of Vvardenfell, even affection in some cases, but I still didn't entirely see why _I_ should be the one to sort out all their problems for them. After all, as people kept reminding me, it was _their_ country.

Then there were the practical concerns. I might _possibly_ be able to take on Dagoth Ur, with enough high-powered armour and weaponry, but that was nothing to the task of getting myself made Hortator in the first place. Sul-Matuul had said something about the Moon-and-Star ring granting Nerevar supernatural powers of persuasion. Well, if it was true, I'd definitely need them.

I didn't _feel_ any more persuasive, certainly. On the other hand… I'd told Athyn a completely unbelievable story, and he'd believed it. And I'd managed to talk the Sarens into helping me find their daughter, and persuaded a Redoran lord to consider marriage to his own bodyguard…

Well, I'd just have to take things as they came. If the worst came to the worst, I could always fall back on my inherited racial talent, the 'Voice of the Emperor'. Perhaps there were _some_ advantages to being an Imperial Nerevarine, after all…


	28. Chapter 28: Coward Of The Canton

**Chapter 28: Coward Of The Canton**

The next morning I went back to Vivec, yet again, and paid another visit to my bank manager. He just told me the same thing he'd said before: that I'd have to go to the mainland to find a buyer for my ring.

"But it's urgent," I said in exasperation. "Don't you know _anyone_ on Vvardenfell who might buy it?"

His lips twitched. "Well, I've heard say there's a talking mudcrab somewhere on Azura's Coast who's pretty free with his gold."

"Haha," I said. "No, seriously. I really need the money."

"Very well," he said at last. "I'll make some enquiries. In the meantime, perhaps you'd like to take out a loan?"

It seemed that I didn't have any other choice. I agreed to borrow 5,000 septims at the bank's standard interest rate, with the first repayment of just over 500 drakes due in a week's time. If I wanted to eat over the next month, as well as build a stronghold, I'd have to get cracking with those Fighter's Guild missions – and find myself some caves to loot as well.

At least I'd cleared one hurdle, I thought. Now all I needed to do was persuade Duke Vedam Dren – a Hlaalu – that what Vvardenfell really needed right now was another Redoran stronghold.

My next point of call was Ebonheart. For once I travelled there by boat, not wanting to make use of Vivec's shrine at a time like this. I couldn't help thinking about how the Nerevarine was supposed to bring down the 'false gods' as part of the prophecy. Heaven knew how the Temple, let alone Almsivi themselves, would react to _that_ bit.

Anyway, I didn't have time to worry about that right now. I went to the Grand Council chambers in Ebonheart, where I'd met Llerar Mandas a couple of weeks ago, and found myself in a long line of petitioners waiting to see the Duke. Luckily he seemed to operate an 'open-door' policy.

Vedam Dren was a thoughtful-looking man with smooth, pleasant manners. I'd been a little nervous about meeting him, remembering that his brother Orvas was rumoured to be head of the Camonna Tong, but the Duke himself seemed friendly enough towards outlanders – if only because he owed his title, wealth, and position to the Empire. After introducing myself I explained about my need for a stronghold, and asked if he'd be willing to grant me a construction contract.

Dren looked hard at me before answering. "I am not sure if I should issue you a contract," he said slowly. "But Vvardenfell faces many threats today. I will grant you a contract if you vow to do what you can for my people."

"Of course," I said, rather surprised by how easily he'd agreed. "Is there anything in particular you'd like me to – "

"That is good enough for me," he interrupted. "Take this contract. Use your stronghold for the defence of my people, and as an aid in your fight against our enemies."

And with that he waved me away and ushered in the next petitioner, leaving me staring open-mouthed at the paper in my hand. That was _it_? Seriously? Back in Cyrodiil, it would probably have taken a month just to fill out the forms.

I carefully filed away the contract and walked back to the docks, where I took the boat back to Vivec. It wasn't until half-way through the journey that I took it back out to actually read it, and when I did, I nearly fainted.

"His Grace, the Duke of Vvardenfell, hereby grants Ada Ventura the right to build a stronghold of no more than fifty persons –" _Fifty persons_?! "– and of no more than 400 feet in any direction." _Four hundred feet_? "Ada Ventura may hire no more than 10 Men-At-Arms and retainers to defend the stronghold…" This wasn't a stronghold, it was a bloody village!

Once again I got that feeling of being trapped in a bizarre dream. Not exactly an unpleasant dream – come on, who _wouldn't_ want a mini-village built in their honour? – but something that was just far too good to be real and lasting. At one time I'd had ambitions of rising high in the Fighters' Guild, maybe even making Champion (and finally getting my revenge on that bastard Modryn Oreyn), and perhaps finding someone to settle down with once I finally got tired of the wandering life. Never once had I imagined that something like this might happen to me.

Shaking my head, I stuffed the contract back into my pack and settled back for the rest of the journey. Just as I was stepping off the docks at the Foreign Quarter, I spotted a young man walking in the other direction, and as he drew closer I realised that it was Varvur. I had a sudden panicky urge to avoid him, until I realised that this was completely stupid – what did it matter what people thought? Besides, he'd already spotted me.

"Hello, Ada," he said with one of those heart-melting smiles. "It's good to see you. What are you doing in Vivec?"

"I just got back from Ebonheart, actually. I went to ask Duke Dren for a construction contract to build a stronghold."

"A stronghold!" His eyes widened. "Then you are to be a House Father?"

"If everything goes well, yes."

Varvur shook his head incredulously. "You have been here only a few months, and already risen so far in our House… yet I've lived in Ald'ruhn all my life, and only reached the rank of Oathman. It shames me."

"Hey, it could be worse. I lived with a merchant family for eighteen years without learning the first thing about business." That won a reluctant smile from him. "So what are _you_ here for, anyway?"

"I have come to perform some duties for Faral Retheran at the Redoran treasury." His expression darkened slightly. "It seems a Redoran in Vivec has shamed the House by refusing to fight a duel of honour. I must persuade him to change his mind."

"Well, good luck with that." From the look on his face I could see that he really wasn't looking forward to this. "Would you like me to come along and help, er, persuade him? Might be easier with two of us."

Varvur hesitated for a second, and then nodded. "Yes, perhaps you are right. It would be good to have a second person there for, er…"

"Moral support?"

"Yes."

We went to the Redoran canton to speak with Faral Retheran, the House agent who handled Redoran business in Vivec. She told us that the reluctant duellist – a man named Rothis Nethan – was hiding out in the Flowers of Gold tavern. Apparently he hadn't quite grasped the concept of 'hiding' properly, because it turned out the place was right below us in the Redoran waistworks.

"Okay, Varvur, we need a strategy," I announced, as we walked to the tavern. "You know the 'good guard, bad guard' routine, right?"

He shook his head, looking puzzled. I sighed. "It's what the Watch do when they're interrogating suspects. Basically one of us is the 'good guard', so they act all friendly – well, _relatively_ friendly – while the other one tries to bully and intimidate the guy into doing what we want."

Varvur grimaced. "I will leave the bullying and intimidation to you, I think. Er, not that I meant…"

"I know what you meant. You need to toughen up a bit, Varvur," I said, winking to let him know that I was teasing him. "If you can scare the life out of your opponent before the battle begins, you've already won."

The Flowers of Gold was filled with Redoran retainers enjoying their lunch, but it was obvious which one was Rothis Nethan: he was the ridiculously over-dressed young man sitting in the corner, trying to look inconspicuous while sucking down ale like there was no tomorrow. As we approached his table, he looked up at us and his face fell. "You're here about that duel, aren't you?"

"Right you are," I said, with a grim smile. "So why didn't you turn up for it, you snivelling little coward?"

In a voice almost too low to hear, he mumbled, "I couldn't."

"And why not?"

This time I couldn't even hear what he said in reply. "You bring shame on our House, _sera_," Varvur said quietly.

Rothis said nothing, but he looked as if he were trying not to roll his eyes. "Don't you care for your own honour?" Varvur pressed him. "Do you wish to be seen as weak and cowardly?"

"Well, I'd rather be alive and a coward than _dead_!" Nethan took a long swig from his glass of ale. "There's no way I can beat Brethas Deras. He's too good a fighter."

"Don't be so sure, _sera_. You may surprise yourself."

"That's easy for you to say!" He flung up his hands. "Look at me – I'm a scholar, not a warrior. Why should I risk my life in this silly duel?"

I could kind of sympathise, actually. Coming from a place where duelling was regarded as a bit of a joke, I still found it rather hard to take the whole business seriously. It made keeping up the 'bad guard' act a bit difficult.

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before shooting your mouth off, shouldn't you?" I countered. "Come on, Rothis, just _man up_ a bit. Ten to one he'll only smack you around a little and leave it at that."

Rothis shook his head glumly. "No, it has to be a duel to the death. He'd kill me for sure."

"Oh, for crying out loud." I was already getting tired of this. "_I'll_ fight the damn duel for you. At least that way they'll know some of us Redorans aren't cowards."

His eyes grew wide. "_Would_ you? That's – "

Before he could get any further, Varvur's hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar. "Worthless _s'wit_! No, she cannot fight a duel for you – and if you had a trace of honour, you would not ask her to!" His eyes practically glowed with anger.

"Guys, calm down," I said, suddenly aware of a dozen pairs of eyes riveted on us. "This isn't helping. Rothis, what _would_ convince you to fight this duel?"

I was expecting him to say "nothing," but instead, he hesitated. At last he said sulkily, "I'm not fighting any duels without some way of evening the odds."

"And how could we do that?"

"You'll have to help me out. If you bring me ten standard potions of healing, that should give me a better chance against Brethas Deras."

Varvur and I exchanged glances. Following a brief discussion, and a hunt through our packs, we managed to come up with ten potions between us.

"You do realise you won't actually have much time to drink them during the fight?" I said to Nethan. "Somehow I don't think this Brethas is going to politely hold back to let you swig down a few potions."

Rothis shrugged and nodded. He gulped down the remains of his drink, then breathed in deeply. "Okay. Come to the Arena this evening. I'll be there this time."

We watched him haul himself to his feet and walk rather unsteadily the door of the tavern. "I thought you were going to leave the bullying to me," I murmured to Varvur.

"Forgive me," he said stiffly. "I lost my temper."

We agreed to meet up in the Arena later that day, and then went our separate ways. I went back to Ald'ruhn for a late lunch before taking the money and construction contract to Galsa Gindu. "Yes, this is adequate," she said, after checking over the contract. "Construction will begin as soon as I give the orders. In a week or so, come speak with me again."

A week? Again, not that I'm an expert, but I wouldn't have thought they could even get the foundations laid in that time. Maybe Morrowind builders were just very efficient?

I spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for provisions, and returned to Vivec in the early evening to watch the duel. I hadn't been to Vivec's Arena before, and I was quite impressed by its size – though of course, it was nothing to the one in the Imperial City. There weren't many people in the stalls, though; apparently no one much cared about the outcome of this duel.

Varvur was waiting for me near the entrance. "So what do you think?" I asked, as we took our seats. "Is he in with a chance?"

"I'm not sure. His opponent is a Hlaalu, I believe, but I haven't heard of him before now."

At that moment a voice announced the entrance of the duellists. Varvur and I leaned forward over the guardrail to see them more clearly, and my jaw dropped.

The Hlaalu, Brethas Deras, was dressed in full bonemold armour with an enchanted sword – nothing unusual about that. But Rothis' armour was – well, it _wasn't_. He wasn't wearing anything except the clothes we'd seen him in earlier that day. Had he lost his mind?

As I watched in utter disbelief, he drew a ridiculously tiny dagger from his belt. It looked like something you'd use to cut paper.

"The hell?" I gasped, turning to Varvur. His face had gone slightly pale. "The _hell_?"

"Almsivi," he whispered. "Why did he not tell us he had no sword or armour? We could have…" His voice trailed off.

"And they're going to fight a duel to the _death_? Varvur, somebody has to stop them!"

"We cannot." He looked utterly miserable. "Duellists may use whatever equipment they choose. There is no rule."

"But – " I broke off as the announcer gave the signal for the duel to begin, and the two opponents rushed at each other.

What followed was nothing less than a slaughter. Rothis actually put up a reasonable fight, for someone wielding what looked like a child's toy against a heavily-armed opponent. But honestly, he might as well just have run straight onto Deras' sword.

I watched, helpless, as the most insanely one-sided duel in the history of Morrowind (and possibly all Tamriel) unfolded in the ring beneath us. Shock and disbelief turned to rage as I realised that Brethas Deras had no intention of showing any mercy, just because his opponent lacked a few trivial things like a sword and armour. I was so angry that for a few moments I seriously considered jumping over the barrier to help Rothis – except that it was too far down and I wasn't equipped for a duel in any case.

By the end of the duel I was seething with fury. I'd seen some pretty disgusting things since arriving in Morrowind, but I honestly don't think anything else had sickened me quite as much as this. All the other killings, no matter how cruel and unjustified, had at least had some _reason_ behind them. But this… this was just completely senseless.

"What in Stendaar's name was _that_?" I sputtered to Varvur.

He bowed his head. "It is sad. But at least the honour of the House has been defended."

"Honour? How was that in any way honourable? That wasn't a duel, that was just – a farce. A complete farce." I shook my head. "A guy just got _killed_ over some stupid insult, in a fight he had absolutely no chance of winning, and you think it's all right just because he _showed up_?"

"You don't understand," he protested. "Yours is a mercantile culture. If someone slandered you in Cyrodiil, you would… make them pay you, perhaps? But ours is a warrior culture. If someone insults you and you fail to challenge them, it makes you look weak, and people will despise you for it."

"And if you turn up for life-or-death battle with no weapons or armour, what the hell does _that_ make you?" I snarled. "Come to that, what does it make your opponent? There's no bloody 'honour' in beating someone who can't fight back!"

"Sore loser, Redoran?" said a taunting voice behind me. I spun round to see Brethas Deras, still in armour but without his helmet, surrounded by a group of his supporters. "At least Rothis Nethan showed up this time. You Redorans sure talk a lot about honour, but when it comes time to test it, you fail."

There was no way I was going to let this pass. "Are you joking?" I snapped. "Come back when you've fought a _real_ duel and then we can discuss 'honour'. Who's your next opponent, a five-year-old girl armed with a lollipop stick?"

Deras' expression had turned distinctly ugly. "Watch your tongue, outlander, or it may just be you."

"_Try me,_" I growled. We glowered at each other, and then I felt Varvur's hand on my arm.

"Ada, be careful," he said in a low voice. "What you just said was all but a challenge."

"Don't worry, Varvur. Somehow I have this strange feeling he's not likely to take me up on it." I turned my back on Brethas and his friends. "Come on, let's go."

"Apologise first."

Heaving a sigh, I turned back to Brethas. "Sorry," I said flatly. I could see him struggling with his pride, but he clearly had the sense to realise I would _not_ be quite such a pushover as Rothis Nethan. After a second or two he jerked his head to the rest of his posse, motioning to them to leave.

"_N'wah_," I heard one of them mutter as they walked off. As insults go it was pretty feeble, but it might have been just enough to tip me over the edge – if Varvur hadn't taken hold of my arms, quietly but firmly, and literally held me back.

His hands grasped my wrists tightly. I stared down at them and slowly unclenched my fists, seeing livid red marks where my nails had dug into my palms.

"Shall we go for dinner?" he asked softly.

I drew a few long breaths, trying to calm myself down. "Okay. Let's do that."

We returned to the 'Flowers of Gold' and settled down to a dinner of nix-hound meat and ash yams, washed down with plenty of shein. With a good meal and a few drinks inside me, I felt the anger slowly bleed out, and shame creep in to replace it. Gods, I'd come close to challenging Brethas to a duel as pointless as the one he'd just fought. And it wouldn't even have been justified – sure, the guy hadn't exactly covered himself in glory, but it wasn't his fault that Rothis had turned up virtually unarmed.

"I am sorry you had to see that," Varvur said, guessing my thoughts. "I don't agree with everything you said, but in one way you are right. Neither of our Houses has won great honour by that duel."

"You've nothing to be sorry for. Though I think maybe I have." I sighed. "Thanks for holding me back, Varvur. I keep doing that, don't I?"

"Don't worry about it," he said with a shrug. "I was angry too, earlier in the day."

"Yes, what happened there? It doesn't seem like you to lose your temper like that."

"It was his selfishness, his lack of honour, that made me angry. I can understand being afraid, but I would never dream of asking someone else to fight a duel for me. Especially – "

He broke off. "Especially a woman?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"No… that was not what I was going to say. I – " For a moment it looked like he was steeling himself to say something more, but eventually he shook his head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

I said nothing. I had a feeling I could guess what he'd been going to say, and I really wasn't sure whether or not it was a good idea to take the conversation in that direction. From the look of it, neither was Varvur.

We chewed in silence. I tried to think about other things, but instead I found myself suddenly wondering what he'd be like in bed. Probably quite gentle, I thought – not like most of the lovers I'd had in the past. Mind you, none of those relationships had lasted more than a few months…

"What are you thinking about?" Varvur asked.

'What you'd be like in bed' probably wasn't the best answer. "Er… nothing much," I said vaguely. "Just… old boyfriends."

"Oh." He paused. "Have you had many… boyfriends?"

"A few," I said, shrugging. "Mainly Nords, actually. Guess I tend to go for the rugged barbarian type."

"I see." He looked thoughtful.

We both went quiet again. "Talking of boyfriends," I said at last, "what _is_ up with you and the Wood Elf girl?"

"Wood Elf girl?

"The one I saw in your manor the other day."

"Oh… Aeronwen." He grimaced. "She is not my 'girlfriend', if that's what you mean."

"No?"

He shook his head. "For a short time, earlier this year, we were… I'm sorry, I don't know the right word. Courting?"

"Dating."

"Dating, then. But we… well, she didn't seem so interested in me as I was in her. In fact, I began to suspect that she was in love with someone else." Varvur sighed heavily. "I tried to speak to her about it, but she kept avoiding me… or so it seemed to me." His face grew rigid. "Well, I have pride. I was not going to pursue a woman who didn't care for me."

Ouch. Suddenly I wished I hadn't asked. "I'm sorry, Varvur," I said. "I assumed you two were… well. If I'd known, I wouldn't have asked… um, if you see what I mean."

"It was many months ago," he said, shrugging. "Things are still a little awkward between us, but I don't mind so much any more." He paused. "In any case, I think perhaps it was for the best. My parents like Aeronwen, but I don't think they would have approved of… us."

"They probably want you to marry some rich Hlaalu noble," I said, trying to lighten the mood a little. "You know, unite the two Houses. That sort of thing."

The expression of horror on Varvur's face was almost comical. "Marry a Hlaalu? I would rather die!"

"Really? I thought those sorts of political marriages happened all the time."

But he was shaking his head. "I do not think my parents would want me to marry a Hlaalu."

The conversation drifted onto other subjects, and we finished our meals. "What will you do now?" Varvur asked me, as we left the tavern.

"Go to bed, I think. Oh, um, you mean tomorrow?" Yep, I was a bit tipsy. "I have to go back to Sadrith Mora. More work for the Fighters' Guild."

"So you're leaving again?" he asked, looking rather wistful. "Well, I'm glad to have seen you while you were here."

"Come with me," I said on impulse.

He shook his head with genuine regret. "I can't. I have more tasks to do for Faral Retheran."

"Guess it's goodbye for now, then."

We hugged rather awkwardly. My skin prickled against the fabric of my shirt where his hands touched my back, and I felt a pleasant trickling sensation in the pit of my stomach. Damn it, why _now_? This was _not_ a good time!

When we'd said our goodbyes I went back to Wolverine Hall, where I took the details of my next two Guild missions from Hrundi before going to bed. I didn't sleep much that night, though. Although I'd had quite a nice evening in the end, I felt frustrated and irritable. At least Dagoth Ur wasn't showing up in my dreams these days – maybe killing a few dozen of his supporters had finally driven home the message.

I was up before dawn the next morning to catch the first ship to Tel Mora, which was on a small island off the north-eastern coast. It was only about half as far by sea as Dagon Fel, and we arrived reasonably early on the morning after that. Tel Mora seemed like a typical Telvanni mushroom-village, though there was something about the place that was just a little off – I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Anyway, the jobs were simple enough: a trader in the village had a corprus stalker trapped in her shop, while an outlaw named Rels Tenim had gone to ground somewhere nearby. I soon found the tradehouse, which was run by a Wood Elf named Berwen, and discovered that she'd imprisoned the corprus stalker behind some crates in her attic. A little _too_ well, in fact, as they were too heavy to move even with my super-strength gauntlets. I couldn't get near the creature, and had to wait for it to spot me and wander over before I could hit it.

Afterwards, I asked around the village about Rels Tenim and was told to ask in Vos, another town just over the water. It was close enough to be easily seen from Tel Mora – in fact, I could probably have water-walked it, but I couldn't be bothered. Instead I took a boat.

I was just stepping on board when I realised what had been bugging me about Tel Mora. Ever since I stepped off the docks, I hadn't seen a single man around the place – only women. Even the few children I'd seen had all been female.

When I asked the shipmaster about this, she smiled. "Mistress Dratha is our Telvanni mage-lord, and she doesn't like men. She won't allow them to live here."

You didn't have to be a genius to spot the obvious problem with this. "How does she plan to, er, keep the population stable?"

"People come and go," she said, shrugging. "Besides, we Dunmer have long lives."

I wondered what had happened to Mistress Dratha to make her hate men so much. Presumably something terrible, though honestly, I wouldn't have been that surprised to find out that it was just a whim. Divayth Fyr was actually starting to look like one of the saner Telvanni by this time.

The town of Vos was controlled by another Telvanni councillor, Master Aryon. The people here were unusually friendly, and also the only Telvanni I'd met who seemed to feel any real affection for their wizard-lord. "You must go and see Master Aryon's wizard's tower," they all told me. "It's very strange. Master Aryon isn't afraid to try new things."

When I walked up the hill to Tel Vos and saw what they meant, I found it hard not to laugh. The tower was a weird hybrid of the traditional mushroom-tower and a Western-style castle, and the overall effect was… bizarre, to say the least. It looked like the castle was being slowly devoured by a giant tentacled monster.

People in the town had told me to ask the nearby Ashlanders about Rels Tenim, but before I left, I decided to place a Recall point here. I didn't really need to visit the Urshilaku again for the moment, but I had a feeling I'd need to come back here before long.

After a relatively peaceful walk through the Grazelands – read 'only a _few_ mad diseased animals trying to kill me' – I came upon the Ahemmusa camp a few miles to the north. This was the point where I realised something that should have been obvious: the Ashlander tribes don't really communicate with each other. I'd got used to the Urshilaku treating me like a long-lost friend, but here all I got was dirty looks and suspicious glances at my Templar uniform. No one knew, or cared, that I was the Nerevarine.

I eventually learned that Rels Tenim was hiding out in Shallit, a cave on an island north-northwest of the camp. It wasn't until I reached the northern coast, and paused to check my map, that I realised there were at least three islands that fitted that description. I briefly considered going back to ask for clarification, but decided to just head for the most obvious choice and hope for the best.

Two hours, several saltwater-dunkings and much swearing later, I finally arrived at the entrance to Shallit. I was cold, dripping wet, shivering, and really didn't feel up to tackling a bunch of outlaws right now. I wish Varvur were here, I thought. At least I'd have someone to complain to.

I actually considered trying to use a minor fire spell to dry myself out, but rejected this on the grounds that I wasn't _completely_ suicidal. Instead I used the spell to start a small fire, and waited for the dripping to stop before entering the cave.

It didn't take me long to realise that there was no one there. Literally no one. At first I thought the outlaws had abandoned the place and moved on, but then I came across a barrel with a lit candle and a note from 'Rels' to someone called 'Giden'. It had clearly been written within the last few days.

I crept on, expecting an ambush at any minute, but none came. Further into the cave I came to a grand-looking staircase leading up to an elaborately carved door. I could hear strange but familiar sounds from behind it, and quickly realised that this led to a Dunmer tomb. By now my Something's Very Wrong Here sense was tingling like mad.

I cast my Chameleon enchantment and crept through the door. There were a few armed skeleton warriors wandering around, but I ignored them. Two doors led out of the first room: one to the left and one to the right. I chose the left door at random and slipped through it without being noticed.

There wasn't all that much in the room beyond, either. Just a bunch of urns, and round that corner, an ordinary-looking human… woman… OHHOLYCRAPIT'SAVAMPIRE.

There was absolutely no doubt that the woman in front of me was a vampire. The veined, pasty face and glowing white eyes said it all, really. Swallowing hard, I slipped off my pack and hunted around in it for a suitable scroll.

Finally I found what I needed: a heavy-duty fireball spell of the type I'd used on the ghost in Llevule Andrano's tomb. I steadied my trembling hands with an effort and, standing as far away as possible from the vampire, cast the spell straight at her. Unfortunately it didn't kill her outright, and at that moment the Chameleon spell wore off.

The first thing you'll learn about fighting vampires is that they're insanely fast and strong. I barely had a chance to draw my sword before she lunged at me with a cry of fury. Before I had a chance to _use_ the sword, she had picked me up bodily and thrown me against the wall with a force that jarred every bone in my body. As I slumped to the ground I saw her looming over me, fangs bared.

Gathering all my strength, I kicked her hard in the stomach. It staggered her for just a moment, and in that moment, I leaned forward and thrust my sword through her chest as close as possible to her heart. She lashed out wildly, and for a moment we grappled together as I frantically twisted the blade in her body. I was starting to think I'd lost when her gaze went suddenly blank and she stumbled backwards, clutching at her chest.

As the vampire's body crumbled into dust, something small and shiny fell to the ground and rolled towards my hand. Examining it, I saw that it was a ring with some pretty incredible enchantments: a strong resistance to most non-enchanted weapons and a chance to reflect spell damage. Talos, it was a good thing that hadn't happened when I cast the scroll at her. 'Killed by her own fireball spell' would make a pretty embarrassing epitaph.

I slipped the ring onto my own finger and wondered what to do next. I was bruised and sore, and really didn't feel like fighting again without resting first – besides, I wasn't even sure the outlaws were still here. Had I walked into a trap, or had they ended up as 'food' for the vampire?

Regardless, there was nowhere to rest except this cave, and right now this room seemed like the safest place in it. If anyone came into the room next door with the skeletons, I'd be alerted by the sounds of battle. So I stripped off my damp clothes, drank a potion or two, and settled down to sleep in a haunted tomb beside the remains of a dead vampire.


	29. Chapter 29: Weird Sisters

**Chapter 29: Weird Sisters**

I woke up to find myself lying half-naked on a cold stone floor with a skull leering down at me. In the few seconds it took me to realise that it was just a decoration, I'd already lunged for my sword and dealt the grinning face a whack that nearly split it in two.

Once I'd recovered from the shock, I put on my clothes – luckily they'd dried in the heat of the braziers – and struggled back into my armour. The remains of the vampire, whose name seemed to be 'Marara' according to the markings on her ring, still lay in a small heap on the ground. I scooped up some of the dust into a leather pouch, hoping that it might win me some points with Hrundi. If not, at least I could always sell it to an alchemist.

At least now I didn't have to worry about Porphyric Haemophilia, I thought. The only other time I'd fought vampires, I'd been so paranoid about catching the 'vampire disease' that I'd drunk a Cure Disease potion, _and_ cast a spell, _and_ gone to pray at the nearest chapel for good measure. Being the prophesised Incarnate was turning out to have its benefits.

From the sound of it, the skeleton warriors were still wandering around in the room next door. I could have fought them, but I didn't want to attract the attention of any bandits that might be lurking nearby, so I used my Chameleon amulet a second time to get out of the tomb. As it turned out, I needn't have bothered – the cave was still completely deserted. I thought back to the skulls and bones I'd seen in the vampire's lair, and wondered if one of them belonged to Rels Tenim.

I was just considering whether to leave when I remembered the note I'd seen earlier, and decided to take another quick look at it. I'd only glanced at it before, but this time I examined it carefully for clues.

_Giden,_

_Here's a blade for the new man. Send him ahead and we'll set up his arrangements. Dinner is waiting, but not for you. Muvrulea is sick again so you've drawn sentry duty. Don't worry, you'll be getting a portion of his share. Stay alert, bounty hunters are seeking us, but I feel fairly secure up here._

_Rels_

'Up here'? I walked slowly through the cave, looking for anything that might indicate a hidden stairway or something similar. Right near the entrance, I spotted something I hadn't noticed before: a ledge up above, half-hidden by stalactites and overhanging rocks.

There was no way up except by levitation. Sighing, I retreated a little way into the cave and swapped my normal pants for the enchanted ones that Peakstar's ghost had given me. Countless washes had failed to get rid of the stains or the smell, but at least the enchantment worked properly.

My hunch was right. A little way back from the ledge, I came across a small wooden door which presumably led to the bandits' lair.

I hesitated outside the door, wondering how to proceed from here. I wasn't sure how long I'd spent in here, but I guessed that by now it was probably night-time and at least some of the bandits would be asleep. Outlaws or not, the thought of having to slit a bunch of people's throats while they slept was not an appealing one. But I didn't have to, I realised – I'd only been told to kill Rels himself, not his companions.

There was enough charge left on my amulet to cast the Chameleon enchantment a few more times, so I did so and snuck through the door. There were only two people inside the first room – a sentry, whom I presumed was 'Giden', and a sleeping woman. In the next room were another woman and a man, both asleep. The man could have been Rels, but I decided to hold off killing him for the moment.

It's a good thing I did, because in the last room I found another man who was very obviously the leader of the gang. He was a lot more heavily armed than any of the others, for a start, and his room was furnished to look like a private study. He was writing at a low table, and didn't see or hear me creeping up behind him.

I knocked him out with my Star of the West power, not wanting anyone to hear his death cries, then drew my blade across his throat as he fell unconscious. Any guilt I might have felt quickly vanished when I read what he'd been writing:

_We've struck a bargain with evil. While I am uncomfortable and feel some unease with our current arrangement, I believe these warrens will serve us well for some time. Those who hope to destroy me must be of stout spirit and cunning mind, for if they simply forge ahead in these caves, they may meet a fate far worse than death._

_When we first discovered these caves and began our explorations, we were sure we had found refuge from our enemies. Little did we know, as we pushed into the interior galleries what we would find. In the final chamber, we came upon the ruined portal to a vast tomb. At first we were eager to chance upon some riches to fill our coffers, but instead we found ourselves within the nest of deadly creatures. By our wits and skill of arms, we were able to retreat from the dark lair. For a time we sealed the entry, but the threat continued to gnaw at us. It was Giden who conceived the plan with which we presented to those beings of darkness. In return for our right to dwell within these caves, we provide 'sustenance' for these creatures. To assist us in this venture, we have created a lure, a path for the bounty hunters and meddlesome folk to follow. The unwary will find themselves in the clutches of a black fate._

_Muvrulea is very unhappy with the current conditions and I am finding myself concurring. This cannot come to a good end, but we must stay the course until a new safehold can be found._

So he'd been luring people into a trap to feed his vampire friend? How charming. Well, at least I could congratulate myself on having a 'stout spirit' and 'cunning mind'.

No one outside the room seemed to have heard anything, but I slipped on the Divine Intervention amulet that Edwinna had given me in case I needed to make a hasty exit. Then I began to search the room for useful loot. A chest next to Rales contained a large amount of gold and several valuable gems, about 1,000 septims' worth in all. There were also a good deal of Rising Force potions around the place, which would be useful the next time I went back to Vivec's shrine.

When I'd finished looting the place, I Divine-Interventioned back to Sadrith Mora and spent the rest of the night at the Guild. The next morning I went to Hrundi to collect my payment, and showed him the ring and vampire dust. "Marara," he murmured. "Yes, I've heard of her – she's been slaughtering any humans who've gone into that tomb, and a few vampires as well. Folks say she was tired of her 'unlife', and wanted to be killed by one of her own kind."

"Well, she's out of luck," I said. "At least I've brought her peace, I suppose. Or something. Anyway, I was wondering: might this be enough for promotion to Guardian rank?"

"Hmm." He scratched his chin. "Well, killing off a vampire single-handed is certainly impressive. Come along to the practice rooms and I'll test your skills."

We fought a short practice duel – which I lost, though I still felt I hadn't done too badly. I'd come a long way since my release from prison, and while I wasn't quite a match for a hefty Nord like Hrundi, I was pretty close.

"Well, your skills are certainly up to scratch," he admitted. "But I'm not sure you've done enough missions for the Guild to justify a promotion. I don't have anything else for you right now, but you could try Lorbumol in Vivec. Just be a bit careful with some of the tasks he'll give you."

I didn't need to be told that. Honestly, this was turning out to be much more of a hassle than I'd expected.

After selling off the gems I'd found and taking most of my money to the local bank, I was about to return to Ald'ruhn when I suddenly remembered that I had a Legion mission to complete. Radd Hard-Heart of Fort Moonmoth had asked me to rescue a missionary, Jocien Ancois, from the Erabenimsun Ashlander camp. I decided now was as good a time as any, since the camp was reasonably close to Sadrith Mora.

To get there I had to cross the chain of islands leading to the mainland, using my Water Walking spell. I could see the spires of Tel Fyr and Tel Aruhn, another Telvanni settlement, in the distance as I passed by. On reaching the shore I quickly found myself in the grey, ashy Molag Amur region, where a rough trail ran west between mountains and jagged rocks. I hadn't gone too far before I heard footsteps somewhere behind me, and a distinctly human-sounding cough.

"Who's there?" I barked, whirling around. There was no one in sight. "Come out and show yourself!"

A frightened Argonian face peeked out from behind a rock. Stepping around the rock to get a closer look at him, I saw that he was barefoot and wore only ragged pants. "What are you doing here?"

He backed away. "Who...who are you? You go now! Leave me alone. I must get home now."

"'Get home'? Get home to where?"

He hesitated, looking me over warily. "No, not home," he said at last. "To the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart before they find me, that's where I must go. The Tel Aruhn hunters be out looking for me, no doubt about it. If they find Reeh-Jah, that's it for me!"

"So you're a slave, are you?"

Reeh-Jah nodded. "Don't tell no one you seen me. Please?"

I looked at him suspiciously. I was wary of people claiming to be escaped slaves after that business with Tul, but I had to admit, this guy did look like the genuine article. And unlike Tul, he was clearly reluctant rather than eager to ask for help.

"You'll never make it alone," I said eventually. "Want to come with me? You can tag along if you want, but I've got to take care of some other business before I can help you."

"You want to help me?" He shook his head. "That a rare thing in these parts, I tell you what. Maybe you get us there, maybe not, but I rather be on my way than have them find me here."

I set off for the Erabenimsun camp, along with Reeh-Jah. The campsite was gloomy and forbidding – a bare clearing, surrounded by sheer cliffs on all sides – and the tribespeople here made the Urshilaku and Ahemmusa look positively welcoming. Several times I tried to approach one of them, only for them to warn me off by pointedly reaching for their weapons. I wondered if Reeh-Jah's presence had something to do with it.

Finally I came across a woman who at least seemed willing to speak to me. "Bless and be blessed," I said, using a common Urshilaku greeting. "I've come here to look for a Breton called Jocien Ancois. Might you have seen him?"

"He is like the nix-hound chasing a bone," she said with a snort. "We told him the Mabrigash wanted to hear him speak from his books. He went to them, and never returned."

"Sorry to have to ask, but who is the Mabrigash?"

She sighed. "The wise-woman who left us, and our rules. She steals a man's vital essence to make herself a powerful sorcerer." Reeh-Jah looked a bit worried by this. "Her camp is to the west, along the lava. But she has others with her, and I would stay away."

I decided to ignore her warning and start looking for the Mabrigash. At least as a woman, I didn't need to worry about having my 'vital essence' stolen – whatever that meant.

Reeh-Jah and I set out west, looking for the lava stream, but it turned out to be harder to find than I'd expected. We followed one path for about a quarter of an hour before I realised I we were probably going in the wrong direction. By the time we got back to where we'd started, I was on the point of giving up – when I suddenly spotted something lying on the ground a short way away. It was a piece of paper.

The paper seemed to be a page from a book, but was so worn and faded that I couldn't read it; all I could tell was that it came from a copy of _A Brief History of the Empire_. Glancing around, I spotted what looked like another page a short way down the path. Unless one of the Ashlanders had a secret passion for Imperial history, I guessed that this would lead us to Jocien.

I guessed right: after following the paper trail for a few minutes, we came in sight of the lava stream. I'd never seen one before, and I must admit it was quite an amazing sight – a literal river of fire. But by the Nine, it was _hot_. I couldn't go nearer than a few feet without feeling like I'd stepped into a bread oven.

The trail eventually led us to a very small camp, with a single yurt. A couple of women were sitting by the fire outside. "Excuse me," I said to one of them. "Are either of you the Mabrigash, by any chance?"

She fixed me with a defiant glare. "Yes, I am a mabrigash. We are the Ashlander witch-warriors, women who defy the man's rules of behaviour for women, mastering the man's weapons of war and the sorcerer's powerful magics. Craven men whine that we steal their vital essences to feed our dark purposes, but men are fools and cowards. Only women can understand the secrets of the ghost snake and its hidden mysteries that make men tremble like maidens."

Wow. Okay. "Well, good for you," I said. "Sisters doing it for themselves, eh? Er, would you happen to have seen a man named Jocien Ancois?"

"Speak to Zennammu in the yurt."

I went into the yurt, where a stern-looking woman was standing guard over a Breton man in a grubby robe – presumably Jocien. "I understand you're holding this man prisoner," I said to the mabrigash, after greeting her politely. "Is there any way I could persuade you to let him go?"

She looked amused. "You want to take Jocien from us? But how can we work our magic without a man?"

"Surely a bunch of strong, independent women like you don't need a man to help you do magic?" I asked, hoping flattery might do the trick.

Zennammu wasn't buying it, though. "You understand nothing, outlander. It is the essence of a man we need for our magics, not the man himself. We cannot let him go."

"May I show you something, Zennammu?" I detached the leather pouch from my belt and opened it up to show her the vampire dust inside. "This is dust from a vampire I killed last night. I think that shows I can use 'men's weapons of war' at least as well as you three." I laid my hand on the hilt of my sword for emphasis. "I don't _want_ to fight you, but believe me, I will if I have to. It's up to you."

Zennammu digested this in silence. "I will let Jocien go if you can bring us a better man," she said at last. "The brave hunter Assaba-Bentus of the Erabenimsun is young, strong, and handsome. If you bring him here, we will let Jocien go."

I hesitated. I didn't really want to trick some other poor guy into taking Jocien's place – but if this Assaba-Bentus was everything Zennammu said, he could probably handle these women at least as well as I could. It was worth a try, at least.

Reeh-Jah and I left the camp and headed back along the trail. I really hoped I wouldn't have to fight the women, to be honest. They might be a bunch of crazy witches who captured men and did unspeakable things to them involving vital essences, but I couldn't help admiring them for standing up to that 'woman's place' crap. Plus… there were three of them and one of me.

Back at the Erabenimsun camp, I found Assaba-Bentus with a party of warriors returning from a hunt. He did indeed seem to be young, strong and handsome, though a bit unkempt for my tastes. After sweetening him up with a hefty 'gift' of gold coins, I explained the situation, and asked if he'd be willing to help me.

He looked at me as if I were mad. "What? You want me to go live with the witch-women? Do you think I am a fool like Jocien Ancois? No, I will not go."

"Afraid they'll steal your precious vital essences?" I said with a wink.

"I am not afraid!" He looked indignant. "I am a hunter of the Erabenimsun, and I have proven my bravery many times. Besides, Mimanu already tried her charms on me. I let her think they were working and escaped the next morning."

"So why not do the same thing again?" I asked. "Are you really going to pass up a chance like this?"

He still looked doubtful. "Oh well, never mind," I said, shrugging. "I guess I'll just have to fight them myself, if you're not up to it."

I made as if to leave, but he grabbed my arm. "No! I will show you that I am not afraid of any witch-woman. I will follow you to the mabrigash camp."

Gods. Men are so predictable, aren't they?

Assaba-Bentus followed me back to the mabrigash camp, where Zennammu was waiting outside the yurt. She could barely contain her glee when she saw him. "Ah yes," she said, her eyes dancing. "Assaba-Bentus is indeed a better man. Thank you for bringing him here."

She ducked back into the yurt, and a moment later Jocien Ancois emerged through the tent-flap. "Are you okay?" I asked him. "They didn't steal too much… vital essence?"

"No, I am fine," he said with a weak smile. "But thank you for dealing with my captors."

I glanced over at Assaba-Bentus, who was sitting by the fire with the other women. He gave me a little wave. "Do not worry about me," he half-whispered. "No witch-woman can hold a real warrior for long."

I just hoped he was right about that. "Well, Jocien, what now?" I asked. Do you want me to take you back to Sadrith Mora?"

He shook his head. "I will find my own way back to the Erabenimsun. I must continue to teach them of the Empire and its ways."

"Good gods, you're not serious?"

But he was already heading off in the direction of the camp. "He's crazy, right?" Reeh-Jah whispered, as we watched him go.

"Probably," I said with a shrug. Some people never learn, I guess. Oh well, it wasn't my problem any longer. He'd just better not expect me to rescue him a second time.

After sharing some food with Reeh-Jah, I offered to accompany him to Sadrith Mora, but he shook his head violently. "Please, not the Telvanni! They'll grab me again for sure."

"Look, just use this," I said, offering him my Divine Intervention amulet. "It'll take you straight to Wolverine Hall, the Imperial fortress. No one will 'grab' you there."

But he wasn't having any of it. The only way to avoid the Telvanni settlements was to go south through Molag Amur, down to the coast – but that would take days, I thought, my heart sinking. I considered leaving Reeh-Jah to his fate, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. There was no way he'd survive out here on his own.

"All right," I said at last. "We'll head south. But if we get lost, I'm teleporting out of there, so you'll have to make your own way back to Ebonheart."

A few hours later I was beginning to realise just what sort of task I'd taken on. Taking a slave 500 yards down the road to a safe house was one thing; escorting him over miles of barren, hostile territory was quite another. Reeh-Jah was pretty feeble and tired very easily, so our pace slowed to about half what it would have been if I'd been walking alone. He was also completely unarmed, so I had to constantly defend him against cliff racers and other blighted wildlife, not to mention sharing my limited rations of food and water with him.

To make things worse, I didn't even have a clear idea of where I was going. Towards nightfall we stumbled across a signpost pointing towards the Temple settlement of Molag Mar, and decided to head for there. I guessed that it would take at least a couple more days to get there at our current pace.

The heat had been near-unbearable as we walked by the lava river, but when night fell out in the ashy desert, the temperature fell sharply. I was okay in my thick plate armour, but poor Reeh-Jah had to huddle up to me for warmth – and before you get _any_ sort of ideas, let me say right now that it was about as much fun as a night with Dagoth Gares. I can only be grateful that no one came by to see the sight – an armoured human woman and a half-naked Argonian, both looking like they'd bathed in ash, curled up together in the shade of a large trama root. The bards would probably be writing comic songs about it for the next three decades.

By the time we finally reached Molag Mar, I was almost beginning to wish I'd just left him to fend for himself. I know it sounds terrible, but all I wanted at this point was to dump him off at the Mission so that I'd never have to see him again. But it didn't end there, of course: I had to buy him some clothes, so that no one would realise he was an escaped slave, and then buy passage for both of us on board a ship to Ebonheart.

I'm not sure which of us was more relieved when we finally rolled up at the Argonian Mission. The head diplomat, Im-Kilaya, thanked me profusely for helping Reeh-Jah. "You have done a good thing here, Sera Ventura. You have helped one of our people with no promise of reward, and at great peril to yourself. Have you seen the Twin Lamps?"

By this time I had a hazy idea of how I was supposed to answer. "They… light the way to freedom?"

"The lamps burn brightly for you, I can see that." He smiled. "Take this as a show of our gratitude."

He presented me with an enchanted belt called a 'Blood Belt'. I'd really have preferred it if he'd just paid me, but I was more concerned that I seemed to have joined an underground anti-slavery organisation without even meaning to. Story of my life, isn't it?

It was still fairly early in the morning and I hadn't bathed since leaving Molag Mar. I went to Fort Hawkmoth to clean myself up, and informed Frald the White that I'd rescued Jocien Ancois (though knowing him, he'd probably managed to get himself captured again by now). He promised to pass the news on to Radd Hard-Heart, though he didn't have any more duties for me at the moment.

Afterwards I went to the bank in Vivec to discuss my next loan repayment. "Good news," the bank manager said, as soon as I entered his office. "I've found a buyer for your ring… at least, I _think_ I have."

"You have? Who is it?"

He hesitated, looking a bit uncertain. "You'll find him in the Ghorak Manor in Caldera," he said at last. "Answers to the name 'Creeper'. He's offered to buy it for thirty thousand septims."

"This isn't anything... illegal, is it?" I asked suspiciously.

"Oh no. Not that I know of, at least." He paused. "But, er, a bit of advice: I suggest you keep this as quiet as possible. I think you'll understand why when you meet him."

I wasn't sure whether to believe him. Clearly there was something dodgy about this 'Creeper' guy – well, with a name like that, how could there not be? – but on the other hand, if he was the only person willing to buy my ring, I had to give it a try. I couldn't believe the construction costs would be my only expense if I had to run a stronghold.

On my way to the Mages' Guild, I once again got that nagging feeling that I was being followed. I paused for a while near one of the stalls, trying to catch a glimpse of my stalker out of the corner of my eye. He was a fairly nondescript type, not the kind you'd notice if you passed him in the street, but I could swear he was the same person I'd seen before in both Vivec and Ald'ruhn. This had gone on long enough, I thought.

I turned around and walked straight over to him – noticing how, just for a moment, he seemed to be trying to back away into the shadows. "Excuse me," I said. "Is there some kind of a problem?"

"No, _sera_," he said, with a look of wide-eyed surprise.

I lowered my voice slightly. "Then why are you following me?"

"You must be mistaken, _sera_. I'm not following you."

"Then make sure you don't start." I gave him a threatening look, then turned and walked away. Either I managed to scare him off, or he was a lot more careful from then on, because I never saw him again after that.

I took the Guild Guide to the pleasant little Imperial town of Caldera, and made my way to Ghorak Manor. Immediately I got the feeling something was very wrong: the windows were boarded up and the place had the general look of a crumbling, abandoned building. I could almost have believed the bank manager had set me up, but why on Nirn would he do something like that?

The inside of the house was even more disturbing. The wall hangings were crooked, broken bottles and overturned furniture littered the floor, and there was a large heap of ash in one corner. The inhabitants – all Orcs – were only half-dressed and looked like pretty rough customers. If I hadn't been well-armed, I might just have turned around and hurried back out.

Instead I plucked up my courage and walked over to one of the men. "Ada Ventura. I'm looking for someone named Creeper?"

A wide grin spread over the Orc's face. "E's upstairs."

Getting nervous with every minute, I made my way up to the next floor. Up here were a couple more Orcs and – a pet _scamp_? This was getting weirder and weirder. "Creeper?" I said hesitantly, looking at the first Orc.

"_Hello Caldera! I'm here all week_!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. That squeaky voice had come not from the Orc, but from the _scamp_. It had to be some kind of trick, surely?

"Excuse me," I said faintly to the Orc. "Did that scamp just speak?"

He chuckled. "Weren't expecting that, were you Cyrodiil? Yeah, that's Creeper. You wanna buy something from him?"

I turned to look at the scamp, still half convinced that the Orcs were playing a trick on me. "Sorry," I said weakly. "I didn't realise scamps could… talk."

"No worries." It was definitely the scamp speaking – I could see his lips moving. "C'mon...help a scamp out," he continued. "You gotta need something. I've got booze...."

I took a few _very_ cautious steps towards him. "Actually I was hoping you would buy something from me."

"So let's see it."

Carefully, still expecting to be jumped from behind at any minute, I took the ring from my pouch and held it out to Creeper so he could examine it. "Thirty thousand, take it or leave it," he said instantly.

I took it. Mad I might be, but I wasn't quite at the stage where I would stand there haggling with a scamp.

He didn't give me the thirty thousand drakes in cash, of course. Instead he gave me a bank draft, which appeared genuine enough. I teleported out of the house as soon as I'd finished examining it, not wanting to stay there a moment longer than I had to, and a short while later I re-entered the Bank of Vvardenfell in Vivec.

"I see you found Creeper," said the manager, seeing the expression on my face.

I flung the paper down on his desk. "Let's just never speak of this again, shall we?"

When I'd finished sorting out payment for my loan, and stored my newfound wealth in the bank, I decided to return to Ald'ruhn. It had been about a week since I'd given Galsa Gindu the construction contract, and I wanted to check how my stronghold was progressing. After stopping for a meal at the Rat in the Pot, I went to speak to her at the Council Hall.

"Ah, Ada. I'm glad to see you." She smiled at me. "I want you to make sure your stronghold is being built on schedule. It is being built among the rows of stones, the Bal Isra, on the east side of the road from Ald'ruhn to Maar Gan. Go there and speak with the foreman, Bugdul gro-Kharbush."

It took me the rest of the afternoon to walk out to Bal Isra. Actually finding the stronghold was more difficult than I had expected, as it was being built at the top of a hill, so far up that it couldn't even be seen from the road below. Why would anyone want to build a stronghold here, miles from anywhere? Who was going to attack a place like this?

I was even more surprised when I actually saw the place. The construction site was fairly bare, with a few large tents dotted around the place, yet the main building appeared to be almost finished. It was basically just a big shell, of course – most of the building work would take place underground – but the door and windows had already been put in, and it looked carved and polished. Did they just have a big stock of the things somewhere?

One of the Orc builders, who appeared to be overseeing the work, eventually noticed me standing there. "You here about the stronghold?" he asked. "Tell Galsa Gindu things are fine here. The work will be done soon."

"Are you Bugdul gro-Kharbush?"

He nodded. "I'm the building foreman for Indarys Manor."

I was about to ask him about the house, when something occurred to me. "Hold on, 'Indarys Manor'? Why not Ventura Manor?"

"Er…" Bugdul suddenly looked rather panicked. I could see him casting around for an excuse, but Orcs aren't exactly quick with words at the best of times. "I don't know. That's just what the bosses told me."

Okay, I thought. There's something a bit weird going on here.

Back in Ald'ruhn, I tried to talk to Galsa about what I'd seen and heard, but she waved me away. "I'm very busy, Ada. Besides, I was just about to finish work for the day. Come back in another week, and the next stage of construction should be finished."

There wasn't much I could do except thank her and leave, but I was determined to take these things up with her the next time we met. Once again, I was starting to get the feeling there was something I wasn't being told.


	30. Chapter 30: Where It All Began

**Chapter 30: Where It All Began**

I didn't want to take any more Fighters' Guild contracts from Lorbumol gro-Aglakh, but since none of the others had any work for me, I didn't have much choice. His next contract was for a woman called Adraria Vandacia, who was hiding out in Seyda Neen – the village where I'd been dropped off by the prison ship. I probably should have gone to Percius Mercius first to ask him about the contract, but there wasn't time before catching the overnight silt strider from Vivec.

It seemed strange to be back in Seyda Neen, the place where I'd caught my first glimpse of Morrowind. How much simpler things had seemed back then – before I'd got caught up with ancient conspiracies, warring religious cults, a fanatical theocratic government, a political tussle between Great House councillors, and a Guild with a deep dark secret. If only I'd just followed my instincts and jumped on board the first ship headed back West.

Problems started to crop up very quickly. Unfortunately, the warehouse where Adraria Vandacia was holed up belonged to the Census and Excise – and was locked, with the only door in plain view of the rest of the village. I had to skulk around the back for the better part of an hour before I got the chance to use an unlocking scroll. Once I got in, I immediately realised that the place wasn't 'shut up' at all – there were people working there, including at least one guard. I'm actually surprised that no one stopped me as I walked through the building; presumably my Imperial uniform gave them the impression I was supposed to be there.

At the top of the stairs I found myself in a well-lit chamber. A middle-aged Imperial woman was sitting at a desk, studying some accounts. She was so obviously _not_ an outlaw that I was completely at a loss for anything to say to her.

At that moment she looked up and saw me. "Yes?" she said rather sharply. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Adraria Vandacia?"

"I am. What do you want?"

Well, what was I supposed to say? "The Fighters' Guild sent me to kill you; don't suppose you have any idea why?" All at once I was struck by the ridiculousness of the situation. What the heck was I even doing here?

"I… nothing," I said. "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry to have bothered you, _sera_."

Leaving a bewildered-looking Adraria behind me, I turned and walked straight out of the building. As soon as I was safely out of Seyda Neen, I cast Almsivi Intervention. It was time I had a long talk with Percius Mercius.

"Hello, Ada," he said in surprise, when I marched into the Ald'ruhn Fighters' Guild. "Have you made Guardian yet?"

"No, I haven't," I said. "Because the only person who'll give me duties is Lorbumol gro-Aglakh, and the things he's asking me to do are completely insane. He just sent me to Seyda Neen to kill a woman named Adraria Vandacia, and when I got there I found she was a bloody Census and Excise employee!"

Percius frowned. "Adraria Vandacia is an Imperial tax agent. I don't know why Lorbumol would give you a bounty on her."

"Exactly," I said. "Percius, I'm going to be frank with you. Either you're going to have to promote me to Guardian yourself, or you'll just have to tell me what's going on anyway. I'm _not_ doing any more missions for Lorbumol."

"Oh, very well," he said with a sigh. "You're a Guardian. Now, come to my room so that we can talk in private."

He led me into a small bedroom at the back of the Guild. "Sjoring Hard-Heart is trying to make deals with the Camonna Tong," he said bluntly, as soon as the door closed behind him. "He thinks he's using them, but I think it's the other way around. These Camonna Tong bosses have been working here in Morrowind since before the Empire came, and I don't think we can fool them. When I was the Master of the Fighters Guild here, I stayed out of local politics."

I sank down onto the bed. Obviously I'd known _something_ very shady was going on, but I hadn't realised it was quite as bad as this. "So all this time, I've basically been working for the _Camonna Tong_?"

Percius nodded grimly. "The only way to save the Fighters Guild is to get rid of Sjoring Hard-Heart and those loyal to him. You'll need to kill his chief supporters, Lorbumol and Eydis Fire-Eye… and after that, you'll have to deal with Hard-Heart himself."

I didn't know what to say. I'd no love for Lorbumol gro-Aglakh, but Eydis… I remembered how friendly she'd been when I'd first arrived in Vvardenfell, and how she'd helped me when I'd had nowhere else to go.

"Do I really have to kill them?" I asked. "You don't think there's any way I get them to change their minds? He just looked sad.

"You'll need good armour if you're going to have a chance," he said at last. "Let me show you something." He opened up one of the storage chests standing against the wall, and I saw that it was full of Orcish armour. "This was a gift from an Imperial Legionnaire stationed here several years ago. He was unjustly accused of murder, and I was able to find out the truth and free him. And _this_" – he showed me another chest, containing glass armour – "was another gift, from Athyn Sarethi of House Redoran. He had the armour made for me after I enlisted the Fighters Guild to help clean up the last outbreak of Blighted creatures back in '24 that nearly destroyed Maar Gan."

"Really?" I asked. "Is Athyn the lord of Maar Gan, then?" I could have sworn he'd told me his lands were in the South Gash, the area south of Ald'ruhn.

"No," he said, with a wry smile. "That would be Lady Brara Morvayn – the widow of Remas Morvayn. He was in charge of Maar Gan at the time."

"Then… I don't understand."

"You will, once you've been in Ald'ruhn a bit longer. 'On behalf of the Council' was what Sarethi said, but I could read between the lines well enough." He shook his head. "Anyway, take any of this, if you want it. It might help you fight Sjoring Hard-Heart."

I suspected I did understand what he meant about the Council, and it made me very angry. That was just like Athyn, I thought. I could only imagine how much it had cost him to have a full set of glass armour forged for Percius. No wonder the Sarethi family had 'fallen on hard times', as he put it, if he kept doing things like that.

"I don't know," I said at last. "I'll have to think about it, Percius. I mean, killing outlaws or bandits is one thing, but our own people…"

"I understand. Well, think it over." He clapped a hand on my shoulder, and patted it a couple of times before leaving the room.

I left the Fighters' Guild, deep in thought. I was still pretty reluctant to get involved in this any further, and I decided to mull it over for a while before taking any action. With a week left before the first stage of my Redoran stronghold was completed, I decided to see if the Legion had anything else for me to do.

Frald the White in Ebonheart was willing to oblige. "Not a pleasant business, though, I'm afraid," he told me. "An Ordinator named Suryn Athones has been spreading lies about the Order of Ebonheart. Someone needs to stop his slanders."

By now I was coming to understand how these things worked. "Stop his slanders 'with extreme prejudice', you mean?"

"Right you are," he said, baring his teeth in a rather unpleasant grin. "Find him and silence his lying mouth with blood."

Talos, this was just as bad as the Fighters' Guild business. _Why_ did people have to act like this when they knew it could only lead to bloodshed? I only hoped I could knock some sense into the guy's head before I ended up having to kill him.

I found Athones with a couple of other Ordinators in a small, cramped office of Vivec's Temple canton. None of them seemed exactly pleased to see a Legion soldier there, but that was hardly surprising. "I've been sent here by Frald the White," I told Suryn, getting straight to the point. "He tells me you've been spreading lies about our Order."

"I spoke nothing but the truth," he said, with a snort. "The Legion is just a mob of blunt-eared apes playing at being soldiers. Is it just your cowardice? Or the incompetence of your so-called Knights? Or is it just the way you smell?"

"Nice to see the mature tone of the debate being preserved here," I said sarcastically, resisting the urge to knee him hard in his heavily-protected groin area. "Since we're so cowardly and incompetent, I take it you won't mind duelling me to prove your unquestionable superiority?" He said nothing. "Or could it be that _you're_ the coward, perhaps?"

Behind the golden mask, I saw his eyes flash. "So be it, _n'wah_. You've chosen your own death."

We drew our swords. I'd never fought an Ordinator before, but I wasn't foolish enough to imagine this would be an easy fight. Just finding a place to hit him was difficult enough, as he was almost completely covered in armour. Those flashy uniforms might look like overkill, but they served a purpose.

My practice against Hrundi had paid off, however. I fought defensively rather than aggressively, waiting for him to tire himself out, and then devoted my efforts to knocking his weapon from his hand. At last I succeeded, and within seconds I had him pinned up against the wall, the tip of my blade to his exposed throat.

"Care to take back those slanders now?" I asked him.

He glowered at me from under his mask. "I would rather die!"

"I hope you mean that, Suryn," I said wearily, "because this is your last chance. Is that your final answer?" He was silent. "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

In answer, he spat in my face. I was beginning to realise this guy probably wasn't entirely sane, but I could hardly back down after the threat I'd just made.

I couldn't see the other Ordinators' expressions as I left the room, but then I didn't need to. I'd killed one of their own, and I knew that from that moment onwards they'd be out for my blood. Unbelievably, my chances of being recognised as the Nerevarine had just got even slimmer.

By the time I'd cleaned myself up, eaten and got back to Ebonheart, I was feeling even more depressed than before. It was all so _pointless_, I thought. A man had just died because he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that a foreigner could be equal to him – not even 'better', just 'equal'. He'd seen with his own eyes that I was neither a coward, nor incompetent, and yet he couldn't accept it. What was _wrong_ with these people?

So when I ran into Varvur on the plaza near the docks, I was surprised by how quickly my black mood vanished. My heart leapt, and I felt a buzz of happiness and excitement that was almost enough to drive the thought of Suryn Athones out of my head. I hadn't felt like this since my days of teenage crushes.

Varvur's eyes lit up when he saw me. "Ada," he said, hurrying over to greet me. "We seem to meet everywhere, no? What are you doing in Ebonheart?"

"Just some Legion business. How about you?"

"I have been to deliver a message to Llerar Mandas at the Council chambers." He hesitated. "I was about to leave, but… well, you helped me with my Redoran business. Perhaps I could help you with your tasks for the Legion?"

I didn't have any idea what Frald might ask me to do next, but I didn't see how it could hurt. "Sure! Why not?" I said blithely.

Unfortunately my good mood didn't last long. As it turned out, Frald's next task for me was even more unpleasant than the last. It seemed that a fellow Knight, Saprius Entius, had been accused of murder and was hiding out from the Ordinators in Vivec.

"The Ordinators are too prejudiced to give him a fair trial," Frald said bluntly. After what I'd just been through, I found that hard to argue. "I know a way to get him to the mainland where he will be tried with Imperial justice. Find him before the Ordinators do, and bring him back to me."

As he spoke, I felt my heart sink. The Ordinators would already be out to get me after the business with Suryn Athones; the last thing I needed was another job that would put me directly in conflict with them. If I got caught trying to help Saprius, I'd be arrested or even killed. I agreed to take on the job, but only reluctantly.

I didn't think Varvur would be happy to hear what I'd been asked to do, but I hadn't expected him to object quite so violently. By the time I'd finished explaining he was looking distinctly grim. "So the Legion wants you to help a murderer escape justice?"

"No, of course not! Frald said he'll be tried once they get him back to Cyrodiil."

"And you believe this?" He didn't bother to hide the flash of scorn in his eyes.

"Yes, I do, actually," I said. "I know Frald, and I don't think he's a liar. Besides, why else would they be trying to get him out of the country?"

Varvur threw up his hands in disgust. "So that he can _avoid_ being tried for murder, of course! Everyone knows the Empire prefers to cover up the crimes of their own people where it might embarrass them. Even you cannot deny this!"

I felt a growing knot of anger in my stomach. "Are you saying my people aren't capable of giving him a fair trial?"

"It seems to me that you are saying _my_ people cannot. If the crime was committed in Morrowind, why should he not be tried here?"

"He won't _get_ a trial here! Varvur, this is the _Ordinators_ we're talking about. They'll stick you in the Ministry of Truth just for looking at them funny, and you expect me to believe they won't just kill him on sight?"

"I don't believe they will. And in truth, I don't even care so much. If he is a murderer, he deserves to die that way."

"Because no one was ever falsely accused of murder, I suppose," I snapped. Varvur stiffened, and his lips turned slightly white. I'd been thinking of myself, of course, but at that moment I realised it could just as easily apply to him. Oops.

We spent the rest of the journey back to Vivec in silence. "I take it you're not coming with me?" I asked Varvur, as we were stepping off the quay. He shook his head. "Well, see you around, Varvur."

"Goodbye," he said stiffly, and turned away without another word. My throat ached, and I felt a sudden wild urge to run after him and apologise – at least explain what I'd meant by that last comment. But, being the stiff-necked idiot I was, I didn't.

Instead I went to the Fighters' Guild and removed my armour. If I started asking about Saprius Entius while dressed in full Legion armour, people were bound to get suspicious. Rather than ask at the Guild, where people knew me, I went outside the canton and asked a few of the more shady-looking types if they'd heard the name. "I did see one of your kind over by the Arena," one of them offered at last.

I took a gondola to the Arena and made some more enquiries. Finally I discovered that Saprius was hiding out in a storeroom somewhere in the canalworks. I made my way there, doing my best to avoid the Ordinators as I went, and finally found Saprius – still dressed in his Imperial uniform – inside one of the small, dusty storage cellars. He must have had an ally, because there was a bedroll set up there and someone had obviously been bringing him food.

When I entered the room, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was on his feet in an instant, his fingers closing around the handle of a large warhammer. "Who are you? Are you in the Imperial Legion?"

I nodded. "The Ordinators have been looking for me," he whispered. "I've done a terrible thing. Can you..." Suddenly his eyes filled with horror. "Look out! Behind you!"

Before I even had the chance to respond, a blast of magicka sent me sprawling forward onto the bedroll. I rolled over to see two heavily-armed Ordinators bearing down on us. Saprius was trying desperately to hold them back, but he could only handle one of them at once. As I lay there, still stunned by the effects of the magicka, the other one advanced on me with sword drawn.

I grasped wildly for my own sword and just managed to parry the blow, but I knew I couldn't hold out for long. My hands and arms were weak, I had no armour, and I couldn't get up from a sitting position while still defending myself. Just as I was beginning to think it was hopeless, the impossible happened: the man stumbled suddenly, and dropped his sword. He sank to his knees, clutching at the back of his neck.

As Saprius finished off the other Ordinator with a heavy blow from his hammer, a young man stepped through the doorway, blood dripping from his sword. It was Varvur.

"_Varvur_?" I gasped, thinking I must be dreaming. "What are you doing here?"

"I changed my mind. When I saw you going towards the Arena, I decided to come after you and apologise." He shook his head. "But then I realised some Ordinators were following you, so I stayed behind them, and saw what happened. And… well, I could not let them kill you."

I closed my eyes, trying to sort out my jumbled thoughts. "Okay… right now, we just need to get out of here. Saprius, take this amulet." I handed him my Divine Intervention amulet. "Varvur, how are you going to get out of here? The Ordinators –"

"It's all right. I think I can get out of the canton without being seen by them." He gave my arm a quick squeeze. "I will see you at the Ebonheart docks."

He hurried off before I had the chance to object. Saprius wasted no time in casting the enchantment, so all I could do was follow him to Ebonheart, leaving Varvur to face the wrath of the Ordinators.

The next few minutes were some of the worst of my entire life. All I could think was that Saprius and I had basically murdered two Ordinators – and what was worse, I'd got Varvur mixed up in it as well. I could only imagine what it would do to his family, and to the House, if it was discovered that Athyn Sarethi's son had been involved in those deaths. And if he was caught by the guards at the Arena… I didn't want to think about it.

"If my friend dies because of you, I'll kill you _myself_," I snarled at Saprius. He looked genuinely scared.

Frald thanked me warmly when we both reached Fort Hawkmoth. "This helm was my father's when he served in the Legions," he said, handing me an old Legion helmet with a spell reflection enchantment. "He had it enchanted and gave it to me – now I'm giving it to you. And while we're about it, I think this merits a promotion to Knight Protector."

I tried to look happy about the promotion, and the extra pieces of Templar armour that came with it, but my heart wasn't in it. All I could think about was Varvur. When I finally reached the docks, and found him standing near the boat that had just arrived from Vivec, I nearly cried with relief.

"You were right about the Ordinators," he said quietly.

I flung my arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "Sorry," I choked. He didn't say anything more, just hugged me back. It was dark already, and there weren't many other people around to see us, but at that moment I wouldn't have cared if they did.

We boarded the ship just before it departed for Vivec. "Why did you come after me?" I asked softly, as we sat alone in the hold, leaning against some packing crates. "You must have known the risk you were running."

"How could I not? You saved my life and my honour. I always wished there was something I could do for you in return." He stretched out a hand and, when I didn't react, cautiously laid it on mine. "Now we are a little more equal."

Once again I felt my eyes smart. "Thanks," I mumbled. "Well, you've certainly more than repaid me for it. You're a good friend, Varvur."

If he'd wanted to kiss me, that would have been the perfect moment. And for a moment, I honestly thought he was going to – but for some reason he seemed to hesitate. "Ada…"

"Yes?"

Our eyes met. For a second we just looked at each other, and then suddenly his gaze fell away. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

I looked away, trying not to show how disappointed I was. Normally I'd have had no problem making the first move in a relationship, but this was different. This was Athyn Sarethi's son, a Redoran noble. If he wasn't prepared to take the initiative, there was no way I could do it for him.

We ended up going to the Flowers of Gold to share a meal and drown our sorrows. As we ate and drank, we discussed the day's events. "I was very stupid," he said, referring to my comment about people being falsely accused of murder. "I thought you said it to be hurtful. But of course, later I realised you were thinking of yourself, not of me. I am sorry."

"Forget it. None of it matters."

He shook his head. "I cannot understand why the Ordinators would do this. I know that they sometimes can be… over-zealous, but they have always treated me with respect."

"You're a Redoran Councillor's son," I said with a sigh. "Of course they're going to treat you well. If you're a commoner – or, gods forbid, an _outlander_ – they think they can insult you as much as they like. The one I met this morning told me that Imperials were 'blunt-eared apes."

"_Apes_? He really said this?"

"Yup. Also that our soldiers are cowardly and incompetent… oh, and we smell, apparently."

Varvur drew in breath sharply. "He will regret it. Only tell me his name, and –"

"It's OK," I interrupted. "I already fought him myself. He refused to surrender even when I had my sword at his throat." I slumped back in my chair, shaking my head.

Varvur stared down moodily into his tankard of ale. He didn't say anything more, but I could see that he was still angry. "Why do they hate us so much?" I asked eventually. "The Ordinators, I mean?"

He shrugged. "They are Indoril."

"Like Nerevar?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Yes." He looked up in surprise. "You know of Nerevar, then?"

"Not much," I said hastily. "Just what I've read in books here and there. Anyway, what's that got to do with hating the Legions?"

"Well, House Indoril is very close to the Temple… and the Temple does not at all like the Empire. Did you know that many Indorils committed suicide after the Armistice?"

I stared. "You're kidding."

"Not at all. They are known for being… I can't think of the word in your language. Very, very deeply religious?"

"Fanatical?" He nodded.

I took a long draught from my glass of shein. "So in that case, why does the _Temple_ dislike us so much? Okay, we worship different gods, but…"

"There are many reasons, I think. The Empire is a threat to their power, of course, but also…" Varvur paused, looking a bit uncomfortable. "If I tried to explain, I'm afraid that it would offend you."

"Go on," I told him. "It can't be worse than anything I've heard already."

"Well… they believe that Imperials are greedy and unscrupulous." He cringed slightly, avoiding my eyes. "They… they say that you worship Fortune."

"Worship _Fortune_?" I had a sudden vision of chapelgoers kneeling in prayer before a huge pile of gold coins. (Actually, in a few cases that wouldn't be too far off the mark.) "What do you mean?"

"One of the Nine Divines… the god Zenithar?"

I frowned. "Zenithar's the god of _commerce_. It's not the same thing."

"No?"

"He sets down the rules for honest trading. It's not just about making as much money as possible." I explained about the oath I'd once sworn to Zenithar, and how no one would trade with me until I'd fulfilled it.

"I see," Varvur said eventually. "I did not know this. But…" He looked as if he were choosing his words _very_ carefully. "Zenithar may teach these rules, but not all Imperials follow them. Wouldn't you agree?"

"And do all Dunmer follow the Tribunal's teachings?" I asked, a little defensively.

"Of course not, but the difference is that you are strangers here. Many Dunmer wish that the Empire had never come to Morrowind. And when people see Imperials who lie, and cheat, and abuse their power…" He exhaled wearily. "It is much easier to believe these stories, that say they care for nothing but gold."

There was a long, awkward silence. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I knew it would offend you."

"Nah, it's OK," I said, shrugging. "I'm not offended." I could see his point, to be honest. But the fact was, that brief conversation had brought back all those nagging doubts I'd been trying desperately to ignore. Once again I could hear that treacherous little voice in my head: _You don't belong here. They'll never accept you as Nerevarine._

To take my mind off it, I ended up drinking rather more than I should. A lot more, in fact. Somewhere towards midnight I got the bright idea of teaching Varvur some Cyrodiilic drinking songs – and I'm reliably informed that what my voice lacks in tunefulness, it makes up for in loudness. By the time I'd finished 'Oh, Cyrodiil' and 'Green and Gracious Land', I think the entire tavern was staring at us.

Someone at a nearby table shook his head. "What is it with you outlanders? You come here to Morrowind, and then spend all your time singing about how much better it is back home. Why don't you just go back there?"

"Can't," I mumbled, slurping at my glass. " 'm the Neverevereveragaine."

The man groaned. "Almsivi preserve us. Not _another_ one."

"What is it?" asked a second voice.

"Another outlander who thinks she's the Nerevarine." He sighed. "Must be Tirdas again."

By this time Varvur was looking distinctly worried. "Ada, it is getting late. I think we should leave." He slid his arms around me and tugged me gently to my feet, guiding me towards the exit. When I stood up, it felt like the whole room was slowly spinning.

"Don' believe me, huh?" I slurred, as we passed the first man's table. "Well, I'll _show_ you. Got a, uh, magic ring thingy… Moon-'n-Star." I pulled off my glove to show him, but unfortunately I'd forgotten that I wasn't wearing it right now. "Well… 'shere _somewhere_."

"Come, Ada." Varvur practically dragged me towards the door of the tavern. As he bundled me out, I heard somebody say, "If _she's_ the Nerevarine, Almsivi help us all."

Outside, he propped me up against a wall just around the corner from the tavern. I vaguely hoped that he might try to make out with me – though I was starting to feel a bit sick, to be honest – but he didn't seem to be in the mood. "I must go to an alchemist," he told me. "Wait for me here… and please, try not to do anything foolish."

I have no idea how he managed to find an alchemist's shop that was still open at that time of night, but a few minutes later he was back, clutching a potion in his hand. "Drink this," he told me. I gulped down the contents of the small vial, and immediately sobered up.

"Ugh. Thanks," I said. "Went a bit overboard there, I think."

Varvur was shaking his head. "Ada, are you insane? Why did you tell those people that you are the Nerevarine?"

"Oh shit. I did, didn't I?" He nodded. "Well, thank Talos none of them actually believed me."

"Ada, please. I know you love to joke, but try to be serious just this once." He looked genuinely distressed. "You must understand how dangerous it is to say things like that, even in jest. I know it must seem strange to you, as your culture is so different, but – "

I held up a hand. "I already know these things, Varvur. Look… I think perhaps you should speak to your father."

"My father? Why?" Suddenly his face turned several shades paler. "You… surely you are not _serious_?"

"Let me show you something." I glanced around to check that no one else was nearby, then opened up my pouch. Carefully I took out the Moon-and-Star, holding it between my thumb and forefinger, and held it out to Varvur.

For a moment he just stared at it blankly. Then, as I turned it slightly so that the moon and star decoration was uppermost, realisation dawned. He jumped back as if it had scorched him, and uttered a word in Dunmeris that I'd never even heard before. "Ada… is that…?"

I nodded. "But how – but where did you…?" Suddenly his furrowed brow cleared a little. "_That_ was why you were visiting the Ashlanders!"

He caught on quickly, I had to give him that. I nodded again. "Then… you truly believe that you are the Nerevarine? But – but you are –"

"An outlander, yeah. It's in the prophecy."

Varvur seemed to be struggling to take this in. "But... Ada, why didn't you _tell_ me this?"

"Why do you think? I haven't told _anyone_ yet apart from your father – and I only told him because I was at my wits' end." I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes briefly. "Varvur… I really think you should speak to him about it. It's just that it's getting very late, and it's a long story, and I really, really don't feel up to explaining the whole thing right now."

"I understand. I will speak to him." He hesitated, shaking his head. "I'm sorry… this is just so hard to believe. Almost like a dream."

"I'm really sorry I didn't tell you before," I said. "But… you can see why, right? After what you were just telling me…"

"Yes, I can. Well… I will see you in Ald'ruhn, perhaps." There was a new light in his eyes when he looked at me, something between awe and fear, with perhaps just a touch of hurt. I got the feeling I'd just scotched any remaining chance of a relationship between us. Not that I could really blame him – I think _I'd_ have got cold feet if a potential boyfriend revealed himself as a reincarnated Indoril warlord.

"Bye, Varvur." I slipped the ring back into my pouch, and held out my arms to him. He hugged me, very tentatively this time, and then we went our separate ways. I don't think anyone could have guessed how hard I was trying not to cry.


	31. Chapter 31: Dead Men's Shoes

**Chapter 31: Dead Men's Shoes**

When I went to see Athyn Sarethi the next morning, Varvur wasn't at home. Athyn confirmed that Varvur had been to see him and that he'd told him my story. I got the impression he hadn't taken it very well.

"He was… perhaps a little overwhelmed," Athyn said carefully, and it was pretty obvious that this was an understatement. "You must remember that most Dunmer believe these prophecies to be nothing more than ancient legend. I'm afraid you will face shock and disbelief from many people once you reveal yourself openly."

I felt a dull ache somewhere deep in my chest, but I forced myself to ignore it. The last thing I needed was for Athyn to know that I had some stupid crush on his son. "I expect he'll come around soon enough," I said, as lightly as possible.

"I'm sure he will. But tell me, have you had any success in persuading Hlaren Ramoran to support our cause?"

I explained what I'd done for Hlaren (tactfully leaving out the part where I set him up with his servant Nalvyna). "He asked you to find Nalvilie Saren?" Athyn asked with interest. "I often wondered what happened to Nalvilie myself. I already had a daughter her age when she was on the arms of more men than was proper..."

"I take it they were engaged at some point?" I asked, unable to suppress my curiosity.

He nodded. "Poor Hlaren. We all tried to warn him that she and he would not suit, but he would persist in falling in love with the most unsuitable – " He broke off. "Well. It was many years ago, and perhaps best forgotten."

I couldn't help wondering what Athyn would think if he knew Ramoran was contemplating marriage to his much-younger female bodyguard. Ah well, I'd leave him to break that bit of news to his fellow Councillors.

After leaving the manor I turned to the matter of the Fighters' Guild, and spent a long time thinking over what Percius Mercius had said. The rest of the day, in fact, and by nightfall I was still no closer to knowing what I should do. Of course I understood that things couldn't go on like this, but at the same time I was really unhappy about being asked to do Percius' dirty work. If he'd decided that all these people had to die, why couldn't _he_ be the one to act as executioner?

The answer came to me soon enough: he wanted to take over as Guildmaster again when Sjoring Hard-Heart was dead. And that would be pretty difficult for him when he'd just slaughtered half of the Guild's most senior officers, wouldn't it? Far better to have a lackey like me carry out the 'purge', and keep his own hands relatively clean. I understood, but I still didn't like it.

Finally, just before I drifted off to sleep, I decided to go and discuss the whole business with Eydis Fire-Eye. She'd seemed like a reasonable person for the little time I knew her, and who knew, perhaps my magical Nerevapersuasion powers would help me to talk her around. Perhaps.

Unfortunately things didn't quite work out like that. The delay turned out to have been a bad idea: somehow, over that couple of days, both Eydis and Lorbumol had got word of what I was up to. And when I arrived in Balmora the next morning, she was waiting for me.

"I see you've risen to Guardian, Ada," she said, her eyes filled with malice. "Word on the street is that you've become Mercius' lapdog, and he's sent you to kill me."

"Eydis – "

But she wasn't about to listen. "I'm afraid I can't let that happen," she said sweetly, patting the heavy Dwarven mace she carried. "You were always a disappointment."

Ouch. I wouldn't have minded so much, but that _really_ stung. Naturally she didn't give me any chance to explain (though it probably didn't help when I roared, "I don't WANT to kill you, you stupid bitch!"). She just swung at me, and didn't stop swinging until she was dead.

I ran straight out of the Guild, knowing I _had_ to get to Lorbumol gro-Aglakh before anyone could warn him. Masalinie Merian at the Mages' Guild looked shocked to see Eydis' blood on my armour, but she knew better than to ask me any questions at a time like that. From the Vivec Mages' Guild I ran to the Fighters, and down to the training area in the basement – where Lorbumol looked up from mending some armour, saw me, and leapt to his feet with a truly ugly expression on his face. He was completely unarmoured, dressed only in pants and boots.

"I see you've risen to Guardian, Ventura," he spat. "I also heard you've been sent to kill me. I'm the only one who'll be taking over as Guildmaster, and I won't let you take my rank in the Guild!"

Do I even need to say that he didn't give me a chance to protest? He just grabbed the nearest thing to hand, a dreugh-bone club, and attacked me. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't Athyn Sarethi, and taking on a heavily-armoured opponent without a proper weapon did _not_ work to his advantage. Even a magically-induced berserk rage – a natural talent of the Orcs – wasn't enough to give him the edge.

When Lorbumol finally fell beneath my blade, I barely had time to mop my brow and swallow a stamina potion before a heavily-armed Nord man ran out of a nearby room. "What the hell is going on here?" he roared, barging past several other Guild members who'd come to see what was causing all the rumpus. I guessed that this was the Guildmaster Sjoring Hard-Heart.

"I might as well ask you the same thing," I said coldly. "Why the hell are you making deals with the Camonna Tong?"

"What do you know about that?" he snarled. "Been talking to Mercius, have you? So that's why you're killing my best men. Well, you'll not get any more of them!"

He ended that last sentence by swinging his heavy steel warhammer at my face. It was a good thing I'd anticipated it and jumped back in time to avoid it.

Hard-Heart was a much tougher opponent than Lorbumol. He was well-armed, for one thing, and a pretty formidable warrior on top of that. What was more, as a Nord he was completely immune to frost magicka, so the hits I managed to land on his armour didn't do much good.

If I hadn't been wearing my strength-enhancing gauntlets, I think he'd have defeated me easily. In fact, his over-confidence was what did for him in the end – he was relying on his strength, and wasn't expecting an Imperial woman a foot shorter than he was to be a match for him. A few clumsy swings, a misstep – and the fight finally ended when he stumbled, leaving his head and neck exposed for a crucial second.

I swung round, my heart still pounding, as Hard-Heart's body clattered to the ground. The other Guild members were standing there open-mouthed, staring from me to the bodies on the blood-spattered floor. I wanted to say something – anything – but there was absolutely nothing adequate to what had just happened. I turned, without a word, and walked out of the room.

The 'purge' was complete, but it would take me a long, long time to get the vile taste of that day's events out of my mouth. I decided not to go back to Percius for now; he'd find out what had happened soon enough. Instead I returned to the Hawkmoth Legion fort, and went to bed that night in the knowledge that my career in the Fighters' Guild was pretty much over. Who'd want to work with me now, even if I _had_ acted for the best?

The next day I asked Frald the White for Legion duties, hoping it would take my mind off everything else. "Have you forgotten?" he said, his eyes twinkling. "You're the same rank as me now. I can't give you duties any more."

"Oh… yeah." I had forgotten, to tell the truth. Promotions in the Legion had come so thick and fast that I was having trouble keeping up.

"If you want more duties, you'll have to speak to Varus Vantinius," he continued. "He's the head of the Legions here in Morrowind, and Knight of the Imperial Dragon. You can find him with Duke Dren over in the Grand Council chambers."

Varus Vantinius was an Imperial man of around forty, tall and solidly built, with a piercing gaze. His impressive silver cuirass marked him out as a member of the Duke's personal guard – the one I'd be joining if I managed to impress him enough. Unfortunately he seemed just a bit skeptical when I tried to explain how I'd become a Knight Protector in just over two months.

"Yes, Frald has told me about you," he said, interrupting me. "I'm not sure what to make of it all, to be honest. You're very young, aren't you?"

Something in his tone and expression rubbed me up the wrong way. I got the impression he thought I'd bribed my way up the ranks by shagging Frald or something. "Twenty-three," I answered shortly.

"Hmph. And you really think you're ready for the Duke's Guard?"

Once again I felt a twinge of irritation at his cynical stare. "Is there anything I can do to prove myself to you, sir?"

"Well, now that you mention it… perhaps." He thought for a moment. "Have you heard of the Lord's Mail?"

I vaguely remembered reading the story of the Mail as a kid. It was a very powerful enchanted cuirass, said to have been created by the goddess Kynareth for her champion Morihaus. I said as much to Vantinius, who nodded.

"It has been kept in a Shrine on the lower level of the Imperial Commission here, but was recently stolen. I want you to investigate. Take this key" – he handed me a large door key – "and use it to enter the Shrine. _If_ you manage to find the Mail, there may be a place for you in our Order."

Detective work, eh? I ignored his emphasis on the 'if', glad to have a task that hopefully wouldn't involve any deaths. I had to have killed more people since arriving in Morrowind than in my entire life up to then.

I went to the Imperial Commission, in a building just off the Council chambers, and made my way down to the Imperial Cult shrine. At first I couldn't see anything unusual, but after looking around for a few minutes I noticed some traces of mud on the ground. After careful analysis of the colour, texture and consistency, I determined that it was… mud. Of some sort.

The trail led from the altar to one of the walls and then vanished. I spoke to the two guards outside the door, but they assured me that no one had been in or out while they were there, and muttered darkly about 'foul magicka'. Either they were lying, and the theft was an inside job – or there was another way into the shrine.

Back inside the small room, I took another look at the stone walls. Now that I looked more closely I could see loose mortar around some of the stones, and a small, perfectly round hole in one of them that looked man-made. I pushed and prodded at the wall for a while, even trying an unlocking spell, but nothing happened. Finally I called in the guards to show them what I'd found, but they couldn't shift the stones either.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," I said at last. "Do you know of anyone who had a reason to steal the Mail?"

Both men thought for a minute. "Talk to Rufinus Alleius, the magistrate," one of them said at last. "He's upstairs in the Commission. He keeps his ears open."

Rufinius did have a hunch, as it turned out. "Furius Acilius," he said at once. "He was banished from the Legion some time ago, but he spoke of the armour before his leave, and of secret caves below the castle. Ask about him at the Imperial Guard Garrison."

Talos. The Legion knew all this, and yet no one had bothered to investigate it before now? No wonder I'd managed to rise to Knight Protector so quickly – I was the only one who ever seemed to do any work around here.

Down in the Guard garrison, I asked around a bit and found out which room had belonged to Furius (heh) before he was kicked out. It seemed Rufinus had guessed correctly: a quick search of the room revealed a small key, expertly hidden… under Furius' pillow. Yes, his _pillow_. This was starting to remind me of the 'treasure hunt' my parents had organised as a treat for my sixth birthday.

I went back to the shrine and tried the key in that small round hole I'd noticed earlier. After wiggling it around a bit, I heard a sudden 'click'. I pushed gently on the wall – and an entire section slid backwards and sideways, leaving a large gap which revealed a cramped, dark passageway.

I crept through the hole as noiselessly as possible, letting the stone 'door' slide shut behind me. A short way ahead was a normal wooden door, this one unlocked. It led into a damp-looking cave lit only by glowing mushrooms – presumably the 'secret caves' Acilius had described.

For a moment I considered going straight back to tell the guards what I'd found, but I decided to scout out the place first. It did seem Alleius' theory about Furius Acilius was correct, but I couldn't be sure if he had allies. I slipped my trusty Chameleon amulet around my neck and cast the enchantment, then hurried down the gloomy passageway.

Further into the caves I came across a clearing of sorts, where a bald-headed Imperial man was sitting by a fire. Could this be Furius? Acting on instinct, I crouched down behind him and cast my Star of the West power. As he slumped back against me, unconscious, I caught him and I laid his body down beside me on the floor.

The enchanted cuirass he wore glowed faintly in the firelight. Was this really the Lord's Mail, I wondered? It certainly wasn't like any other armour I'd seen, but it didn't look like the gift of a Goddess either – the metal was strong but dull and tarnished, and the carvings on the front were faded. It looked… ancient.

I rolled Acilius onto his side to unbuckle the cuirass from his limp body – then nearly dropped the armour when it literally changed shape in my hands, to something more suited to my size and figure. Maybe it _was_ something special after all.

Before returning to the Commission I had a quick look around the cave, and was soon glad I'd taken the time. Amongst Furius' other possessions I found a beautiful glass longsword, with a frost enchantment like the one on my current weapon. Glass weapons are slightly more brittle than silver or steel, but _very_ good quality, with an edge that can cut through even some of the heavier armours. I decided I deserved a reward for all my hard work (cough) in exposing the thief's fiendishly sneaky plot (cough).

I took the glass sword for myself and left my own weapon in its place. Leaving the unconscious Acilius for the guards to pick up, I returned to the Commission to explain what had happened, and then to the Council chambers. I was quite pleased with how that had gone: the Mystery of the Missing Mail solved in under an hour, and not a drop of blood spilled.

Varus Vantinius didn't look quite so pleased, unfortunately. For some reason he seemed to have taken a dislike to me, and my success in finding the Mail only seemed to make things worse. To do him justice, though, he kept to his word.

"Well done, Knight Protector," he said grudgingly. "Very well: as reward, you are welcome in our Order as a Knight of the Garland. I will have a cuirass made for you, but first I have another task: I want you to find Chrysamere."

"Chrysamere?"

"A sword of legend, sometimes called the Paladin's Blade. It was in the possession of the Legion for many years, but was stolen by a treacherous Knight. Our spies have heard rumours that it is now in the possession of Draramu Hloran, a powerful sorceress near Sadrith Mora."

Why did I get the feeling he didn't much care if I survived the encounter with this 'powerful sorceress'? Well, I'd show him.

After my midday meal I set off for Sadrith Mora. It took a while to find any of the none-too-friendly townsfolk who were willing to speak about Draramu Hloran, but it turned out she was living in a cave on one of the nearby islands. By this point I'd learned to cast Water Walking, a pretty simple spell, fairly consistently – it was still a bit touch and go, but I managed to reach the cave of Abanabi without getting wet.

The cave itself turned out to be full of Daedra. A month or two ago this would have had me in a serious panic, but now, with enchanted armour for protection and a powerful weapon, I felt much better able to take them on. My main worry was that the sounds of battle would alert Hloran and any friends she had with her, but when I finally found her, she was alone in a remote part of the cavern.

I concealed myself behind a large crystal formation and wondered what to do. Draramu was standing on a wooden platform high above an underground lake, and the only way to reach her was over a narrow rock bridge. I could have snuck up on her using my Amulet of Shadows, but I couldn't cast the Star of the West spell a second time in one day. I could have used arrows, but if she wasn't killed outright she'd probably just start flinging spells at me. Besides, I really didn't want to kill her – not because I imagined she didn't deserve it, but because I was just so _sick_ of killing people.

After a minute's thought, I put on my Chameleon and Divine Intervention amulets and cast the Chameleon enchantment, then walked across to Draramu. She was carrying a magnificent claymore which had to be Chrysamere – though frankly I was surprised she even had the strength to lift it. Crouching down behind her, I picked up a small pebble from the ground and threw it across the room as hard as I could. She muttered something under her breath, looked around sharply for a few seconds, and then set off in the direction of the sound.

Just as she stepped onto the narrow bridge, I grabbed her arms – easily wrenching the sword out of her hands – and gave her a hard shove. With an outraged shriek she toppled over into the water below. Instantly I cast the Divine Intervention enchantment, and within minutes I was back in Ebonheart presenting Chrysamere to Varus Vantinius – who was now wearing the Lord's Mail himself, I noticed.

"So you have found Chrysamere." He was smiling thinly, but his eyes glittered with anger. "And a fine blade it is! Come on, hand it over."

Gods, what was his _problem_? After all I'd done for the Legion, chasing after artifacts they'd been stupid enough to lose, you'd think a little politeness wouldn't kill him. "Do I get another promotion for this?" I asked, unable to resist the chance to rub it in.

He gave a short laugh. "Looking to go even further, are you? I might have known."

"Is there any reason why not?" I asked coldly. "With all due respect, sir, I think I've earned it."

Varus just… stared at me, a strange expression on his face. "There can only be one Knight of the Imperial Dragon on Vvardenfell," he said at last. "But so be it. To take my place, you must defeat me in an honourable duel in the Arena."

It took a second or two for the full meaning of his words to sink in. Only then did I realise what a hideous mistake I'd made. Why hadn't I realised that _his_ rank was the next one up from mine? "A… a duel?" I murmured, trying to hide my shock.

"Yes." A look of scorn flickered across Vantinius' face. "Or did you imagine I would simply stand aside and let you take my rank?"

My mind was working frantically. Okay, so I'd screwed up here. There was no way I could realistically beat Vantinius in a duel – especially when he had two of the most powerful artifacts in Tamriel to help him! – but however stupid I would look trying to fight him, I'd look even _more_ stupid if I tried to back down now. Best to just go along with the duel, and surrender gracefully when things got too much for me.

"No, sir." I straightened up. "I accept your challenge."

He raised his eyebrows. "_You_ are the challenger, are you not? Very well. I'll tell you now that I'd rather die than lose my position as Knight of the Imperial Dragon. Meet me in the Arena in Vivec, tomorrow morning, for a duel to the death."

Before I could say anything, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room – leaving me staring after him, aghast. A duel to the _death_? Surely he couldn't be serious?

I wheeled round to look at the other people in the room. All of them, the Duke included, were looking at me as if I were completely and utterly mad. I couldn't entirely blame them.

Suddenly I felt a rush of anger. Vantinius _knew_ I had no chance against him, and yet he'd all but tricked me into a fight I couldn't possibly win. I could see how arrogant and obnoxious I must have looked, with my demands for promotion to his rank – but on top of challenging me to an unwinnable duel just to humiliate me, he had to try to _kill_ me as well? It made no sense until I suddenly realised that was why he'd disliked me to start with – he thought I was a threat to his position, and in his mind I'd just proved it.

I walked slowly back to the Hawkmoth garrison, my mind in a whirl. What was I going to do? Maybe if I used the money from the ring I'd sold to buy some _really_ good armour, Daedric or ebony or something like that… but I didn't have a clue where to get that kind of stuff. Besides, those armours were hideously expensive – a cuirass alone would probably cost more than the 25,000 gold I had left.

It took me ages to get to sleep that night. I lay awake for hours, mentally beating myself up for being so incredibly stupid. As if I didn't have enough to worry about without turning the head of my own Order into an enemy! I didn't even _want_ his rank, for crying out loud!

By the time I woke up, early the next morning, I still hadn't thought of anything. I couldn't back out now even if I wanted to – not only would the Redorans crucify me, but I'd certainly lose any chance of ever becoming Nerevarine. It seemed my only hope was for Azura to step in and strike Vantinius down with a heart attack or something.

And then, just when everything seemed hopeless, an idea came to me. A truly evil, sneaky, underhanded, _blasphemous_ idea.

I bathed, and dressed, and then walked down to the basement where the Legion smith was setting up for the day. "Excuse me," I said to him. "Do you know anything about the Arena, by any chance?"

He hesitated for a couple of seconds before answering. "What do you want to know?"

"Am I right in thinking you can use any type of magic you like for a duel? There aren't any restrictions?"

"None that I know of, no."

"Okay. Thanks," I said. As he turned away, I cast Divine Intervention and landed in front of the High Fane on Vivec's Temple canton. There was no one around; the priestess who usually sold Rising Force potions hadn't turned up yet.

I walked over to Vivec's Shrine to Stop the Moon and removed one of my own potions from my bag. Nervously I glanced over at the Palace of Vivec, where the god himself was said to live, watching over the city and its people. What would he think of this, I wondered?

"Sorry," I murmured, and placed the potion on the shrine. With a flash of light it cast the usual 24-hour Levitation spell.

I didn't fly off immediately. Instead I _walked_ to the Arena, ate some breakfast, and then spent my time practising in one of the training rooms until the duel was due to begin. As I walked to the pit area, I felt a bit sick – but not with fear.

As soon as I walked through the door and saw Vantinius, I knew there wasn't much chance of him showing mercy. He wore the Lord's Mail and carried Chrysamere, and his mouth was set in a hard line. Almost no one was there to see us – apparently he hadn't thought this rather pathetic fight worth mentioning to anyone.

The announcer called for the duel to begin, and Vantinius ran at me brandishing Chrysamere. I stood my ground, waiting until he was almost within reach – and then I leapt upwards, rising high above his head.

I'll never forget the look of fury and disbelief on Vantinius' face. To be fair, he still put up a pretty good fight – but what could he do against an opponent with that kind of advantage? He defended himself quite well, but he never managed to land a blow on me. All I had to do was jab him with my sword a few times and let the frost magicka do its work.

I didn't feel any triumph when he lay dead – only a crushing sense of guilt and sadness. I knew perfectly well that this hadn't been a fair fight, even if there was _technically_ nothing in the rulebook about not using constant-effect Levitation spells in a fight. I'd cheated, and I'd killed a good man. But what else could I have done?

Carefully I unbuckled the Lord's Mail from his body and picked up Chrysamere, then cast Divine Intervention to take me back to Ebonheart. I honestly think Duke Dren was pretty near to fainting when he saw me. Clearly he hadn't ever expected to see me again, let alone carrying Vantinius' weapon and armour.

"You… have defeated Varus?" he said hoarsely. "You took those from him?"

I nodded, laying the artifacts down on one of the chairs. "I see." He swallowed visibly. "Then you are the new Knight of the Imperial Dragon. Congratulations, _sera_."

Dear Talos… I _was_, wasn't I? That was why we were fighting in the first place – because he thought I wanted his rank. I, Ada Ventura, was now the head of the Imperial Legion in Vvardenfell.

Suppressing a choke of slightly hysterical laughter, I thanked the Duke and left as quickly as possible. I knew one thing: I had to tell Athyn about this as quickly as possible. Better to tell him myself than have him hear about it third-hand and think I'd kept it from him.

In Sarethi Manor, I went to Athyn's study and told him the whole sorry story. As always, he listened patiently, but this time I could sense that he really wasn't happy.

"I will answer you plainly," he said at last. "Yes, it was wrong of him to challenge you knowing that you had little chance against him. But what you did was very far from honourable."

I felt the blood rush to my face. I knew he was right, of course, and that made me all the more defensive. "Are you saying I should just have walked in there like a lamb to the slaughter?" I demanded. "When he had the Paladin's Blade and the Armour of Morihaus to help him?"

"I don't blame you for wishing to even the odds, but surely you must see that your actions went far beyond this? Besides, the duel should never have taken place."

I blinked. "Are you saying I should have refused to fight him?"

"No, you could hardly have refused the duel. But…" Athyn shook his head. "Ada, I must speak very seriously to you. I know that you are young, and not so familiar with our culture… but you've been here long enough to understand how careless words can lead you into trouble. It was _you_ who first issued a challenge to Vantinius, even if you did not mean to."

"But – "

"No, no more excuses. Ada, you claim to be the Nerevarine – yet a good man is dead because you spoke without thinking." He spoke gently, but his expression was very grave. "Is this what makes you a worthy successor to Nerevar? I cannot say this strongly enough: If you wish to rise high in House Redoran, and become our Hortator, you _must_ learn to control your tongue and your temper."

I felt about eight inches tall. Having him lose his temper and yell at me would be far and away preferable to this; at least it wouldn't make me feel quite so guilty and ashamed. "I do not say this to be cruel," he went on, "or because I'm angry with you. I say it as advice, and as a warning. If you were to defeat a Redoran in such a duel, the House would not easily forgive you."

For a long time I just stared at the floor. "You're not going to punish me?" I said at last, in a small voice.

"No. What purpose would it serve? You already know you have done wrong, else you would not be here. It is as I have always told my own children: If you are a true Redoran, and you know you have acted dishonourably, your own conscience will be your worst punishment."

I forced myself to look up at him. "Surely you're not still willing to declare me Hortator after this?"

"Not yet." Athyn began to gather together the papers on his desk. "I will, but first I wish you to become Hortator of Houses Hlaalu and Telvanni. Prove to me that you can be cunning and diplomatic, and use persuasion as well as weapons. Being a good fighter is not enough."

I froze in horror. Athyn shrugged, a rueful smile on his lips. "A difficult task, I know," he said. "But if you truly are Nerevar reborn, you must succeed."

Somehow I managed to pull myself together. "All right," I said, trying to sound rather more confident than I felt. "I'll try. Do you have any idea who I should speak with to become Hortator?"

"Be careful when dealing with the Telvanni," he warned. "They are all powerful, and the power drives some of them mad. Of the ones I have dealt with, Master Aryon of Tel Vos seems the most honest. As for the Hlaalu, I do not know of any who would treat you honourably and fairly… but I do know that Crassius Curio in Vivec holds some degree of power." Again he smiled faintly, seeing the horrified expression on my face. "Yes, my friend. Perhaps this will teach you to be more careful of throwing vases in future."

"Anyone _else_?" I asked desperately. "Anyone?"

"Well… Orvas Dren is not officially a member of House Hlaalu, but he holds at least as much sway over the Hlaalu Council."

Oh, great. So my choice was between the head of the Camonna Tong, and the guy whose face I'd smashed in with a vase? Yet more proof that someone up there _really_ hated me.

I thanked Athyn for his kindness, but left the manor in a lower mood than I'd felt for weeks. I'd hoped to smooth my way with the Hlaalu and Telvanni by getting Redoran to declare me Hortator first, but now that was impossible. And I had the satisfaction of knowing it was entirely my own fault. It wasn't a good start to my efforts to fulfil the Fourth Trial.


	32. Chapter 32: You Don't Have To Be Mad

**Chapter 32: You Don't Have To Be Mad To Live Here…**

Athyn had made things clear enough: to gain his support I had to prove that I was a Responsible Adult, not a stroppy vase-throwing brat. And the first step on that path, I thought, was to face up to my responsibilities as Knight of the Imperial Dragon. Frankly I found the whole idea a bit terrifying, but having so thoroughly made my own bed, I didn't have much choice but to lie on it.

I went to Ebonheart to seek a special audience with Duke Dren. To my enormous relief, he quickly made it clear that this was pretty much a figurehead position. As long as I checked in with him and the Imperial high-ups every now and then, I was quite free to leave the real work up to everyone else (I always suspected that most high-ranking jobs were like that).

And to think people back home used to say I'd never amount to anything. If they could see me now, eh?

Since the next phase of my stronghold wasn't finished yet, I decided to get cracking with the Hortator business – it was about time, after all. Although I knew the Telvanni would probably be the most difficult to persuade, I just couldn't bring myself to face Crassius Curio right now, so I finally decided to visit Master Aryon in Tel Vos. Luckily I'd set a Mark near the town earlier on, so I could travel there instantly instead of spending days cooped up in a boat. (Well, _almost_ instantly – it was still taking me well over a minute to actually cast the Recall spell.)

I'd hoped that Aryon's newfangled Western-style castle might include modern design innovations as 'stairs', but no such luck. His private quarters were still in a mushroom pod that could only be reached by levitation. I hid in an alcove to change into Peakstar's scuzzy pants, hoping Aryon wouldn't be put off by my appalling fashion sense, then levitated up to his chambers. I was rather surprised to be met by an Imperial in heavy Western-style armour.

"Welcome to Tel Vos," he said, without missing a beat. "I'm Turedus Talanian, chief of Master Aryon's mercenary guard… and from the looks of you, adventuring is your trade. Maybe you'd be interested in a little work?"

"Possibly," I said cautiously. "But first I need to see Master Aryon on a very important matter of business."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your name?"

"Ada Ventura."

"And do you know Master Aryon?"

"No… but it's possible he may have heard of me," I said, remembering the Fighters' Guild jobs I'd done near to Vos. "Please could you tell him that I'd like to speak to him, if he's not too busy?"

Talanian looked skeptical, but headed upstairs to speak to Aryon, returning a minute later. "All right, he'll see you. Go on up."

I made my way up the winding staircase to Master Aryon's chamber. He sat on a throne-like seat and was absorbed in a book, but laid it down on his lap as soon as I approached. For a few uncomfortable seconds he looked me over with detached interest, the way you might look at a museum exhibit or a piece of pottery.

Aryon was another of those Dunmer who seemed strangely ageless. He wasn't _young_ exactly, and yet he certainly looked a lot younger than Divayth Fyr. The smile he gave me was friendly, but slightly cryptic, giving the impression that he knew something I didn't. It made me a bit suspicious of him.

"Ah yes. Sera Ventura." He spoke flawless, near-accentless Tamrielic. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I assume you've come here because you wish to be the Telvanni Hortator?"

My heart skipped a beat. "How – "

"Oh, quite easily," he interrupted. "I know of you by reputation, of course. The rising star of House Redoran. The scourge of the Fighters' Guild… or certain elements within the Guild, at least. And – correct me if I'm wrong – the new Knight of the Imperial Dragon?"

Good gods, how had a reclusive Telvanni wizard out in the Grazelands got to hear about that so quickly? Either he could read minds – and I wouldn't rule anything out where the Telvanni were concerned – or he had _really_ good spies in the main cities. "You've been creating quite a stir in Vvardenfell," he went on. "Combine that with the rumours of a reborn Nerevar amongst the Ashlanders, and… well." He smiled. "It's not difficult to 'put two and two together', as you Cyrodiils say."

Realising I was still gaping at him, I picked my jaw up off the floor with an effort. "Perhaps I'd better tell you the whole story?"

"Yes, I think perhaps you had."

So I told him. He listened carefully as I ran through my story, just as I'd done with Athyn Sarethi, and showed him the Moon-and-Star. At first his expression showed nothing but faint amusement, but by the time I finished he was looking genuinely interested.

"Yes, I understand," he said at last. "You are willing to take the responsibility, and I am willing to vote for you as Hortator."

"Really?" I hadn't expected him to agree this easily.

"Yes, really. And I think the other Telvanni councillors will also cooperate, though some might need a little… persuading." He leaned back in his chair, musing out loud. "Master Neloth is ill-tempered, and Mistress Therana is losing her mind. You are not a male, so Mistress Dratha will like you. Archmagister Gothren is another problem – he will not refuse you directly, but will delay indefinitely. I recommend that you kill Gothren."

My mouth dropped open. Aryon's face broke into a smile. "I'll tell you plainly: I stand to gain if Archmagister Gothren dies. I say this so you won't think I'm trying to trick you, but my advice is still good. Gothren won't name you Hortator, but he'll never come out and say so. And in House Telvanni it is customary to settle disputes in this manner."

Once again I found myself thanking the Divines that I hadn't joined House Telvanni. "We'll see," I said at last. "So… you're really prepared to support me as Hortator?"

"As I said."

I looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I want it in writing."

"Ah, a true Imperial," he said with a sigh. "Very well, give me a moment."

He scribbled a short note on a piece of paper and signed his name to it with a flourish. "Will this satisfy you?"

I still wasn't sure whether I could trust Aryon, but from what I could see, his declaration seemed pretty watertight. I couldn't see any way he could wriggle out of it – but then again, if he planned to do that, he'd probably find a way to do it anyway. And I had to admit that he'd been pretty helpful.

"It's fine," I said. "Thank you for your help, Master Aryon. I hope you're wrong about Gothren."

"I believe I may know him better than you do," he said with a shrug. "But we shall see."

As I was leaving, Captain Talanian came up to speak to me. "I hope your meeting with Master Aryon was productive," he said politely. I nodded. "Now, about that work… would you happen to be visiting the Zainab Ashlander camp in the near future?"

"Er, yes, at some point."

"Then perhaps you'd able to help us? We've been trying to establish trade links with the Zainab. I'll pay you 100 drakes to visit the camp and find out what goods the tribe would be interested in trading for."

100 drakes wasn't much, but I guessed this was his way of asking payment for Aryon's little 'favour'. "Of course," I said immediately, getting out my journal. "I'm not sure exactly when I'll be visiting the camp, but I'll definitely speak to them about it."

"Good," he said. "But remember, dealing with the Zainab is tricky. You'll need sharp wits, a silver tongue, and a good knowledge of the Ashlanders." _Now_ he told me…

My next point of call was Tel Mora, just across the water. This was the home of Mistress Dratha, the oldest living Telvanni councillor. There were rumours that she kept herself alive through the necromantic arts, and when I saw her, I could certainly see why. She looked so old and shrivelled-up that I could have taken her for a walking corpse herself.

"Are you the new serving girl?" she asked, as soon as I entered the room. I shook my head. "No? Who are you, then?"

"My name is Ada Ventura, _sera_." I took a deep breath. "I've come to ask you to support me as Telvanni Hortator."

She frowned. "Are you a Telvanni? You don't look like one."

"I'm afraid not," I admitted. "I'm actually a Redoran."

"Then what makes you think I'd be willing to name you Hortator? I don't appreciate having my time wasted."

"Well, it's a bit of a long story." I paused. "I don't suppose you'd happen to have half an hour to spare?"

"No, I don't."

"Okay. Well, in that case" – I began to pull off my left gauntlet – "perhaps I should just show you _this_."

"By Azura. Is that…?" For the first time I saw a spark of interest in her eyes. "Yes, I believe it is. Well." She shook her head. "It seems there is something to you after all, Ada Ventura. Perhaps you'd like to tell me just how you got hold of that ring?"

Like Aryon, she listened to my story with rapt attention. I had to say this for the Telvanni: they might be a bit crazy, but they were at least open-minded. Most people would have dismissed me as a lunatic before I'd even finished speaking the word 'Hortator'.

"Hmm," she said, when I was done. "So there's something to those old prophecies after all? Pig-headed Battlemages don't pay attention to Lady Azura's portents as they should." She shook her head, cackling wheezily. "And you are the foretold Nerevarine? Quite a shock to those mallet-headed House Fathers, eh? Nerevar comes back... as a woman? Haw!" I decided I rather liked Mistress Dratha.

"Certainly," she continued. "I'm quite happy to name you Hortator. Here. Take these scrolls with you. Never know when they'll come in handy."

She gave me four scrolls that could be used to summon a Golden Saint from Oblivion. I was pretty impressed, I had to admit. I usually avoid summoning Daedra – there's no telling when the damn things might turn on you – but there was no denying that a few Golden Saint allies could come in very useful in a fight.

I was a little nervous about asking for her signature, but she signed her name to Aryon's declaration very happily. "I just wish I could see Berel Sala's face when he hears that you have been named Hortator by all three Great Houses," she chuckled. "The captain of the Watch, I mean. I'm confident that you can earn the votes of the other councillors... well, except maybe Gothren. Someone ought to 'retire' him quietly."

Dislike of Gothren seemed to be a common theme among the other Telvanni councillors. I wondered why they didn't just band together to get rid of him, until I realised they probably all hated each other nearly as much.

Pleased with the day's work, I decided to stay in Tel Mora for the night. I rented a room at the local inn and spent the rest of the day exploring the village, admiring the bizarre architecture and the strange crab-shell helmets worn by the guards. I'd begun to notice that each of the Great Houses had their own fashions: they all wore bonemold armour, for instance, but the styles were distinctively different. In terms of clothing, the Redorans preferred loose robes of silk or satin in rich colours, while the Telvanni went for enchanted robes and Hlaalu clothes were closer to the Western style.

Sleeping inside one of those buildings was a slightly weird experience, but not as bad as I'd expected. Apart from a slightly musty smell – one you get used to if you live in a mushroom, I suppose – the room was quite comfortable, though I did spend a few seconds wondering where the hell I was when I woke up next morning. I was planning to go and visit the other Telvanni councillors that day, but then I realised that as the Ahemmusa camp was nearby, this would be a good time to visit them and ask them to declare me Nerevarine.

I might have known things wouldn't be as simple as that. As soon as I got near the camp, I was accosted by a very elderly woman wearing a magnificent feather headdress. "Stranger!" she called. "Stop! I believe you are the one I have seen in my dreams and visions."

All I could think was 'oh no, not again'. "Are you the wise woman of this tribe, by any chance?" I asked.

She nodded. "I am a wise woman, yes… but you must listen to me. The past seven nights, I have had dreams of a White Guar, sent by the gods to help my tribe. We have been suffering greatly from disease, and none of my magic will cure the ailment. Find this White Guar for us, stranger, and let it lead you to a new hope for my people."

A _white_ guar? I'd never even heard of anything like that before. I wasn't quite as skeptical of 'dreams and visions' as I used to be, but this woman still seemed pretty unbalanced.

"Well, I guess I could try," I said uncertainly, "but wouldn't it be easier if I just walked to town and bought you some potions?"

"Potions?" She frowned, then shook her head. "Only the Guar can help us."

"No, seriously," I said. "I've plenty of money – I can bring you all the cure potions you like. As a gift," I added, remembering how much the Ashlanders liked gifts.

She shook her head impatiently. "No! The White Guar must be found."

Oh, _sod_ this. I'd hoped to have a quick conversation with the tribal leaders, wave my Moon-and-Star around in their faces, and get declared Nerevarine in time to return to Vos for lunch. And some old crone had to choose this moment to send me off on a wild… er, _guar_ chase?

_Cunning and diplomacy_, I reminded myself. _Cunning and diplomacy_. "If I do this, will you allow me to speak with your ashkhan?"

"We have no ashkhan."

"No ashkhan?"

"Our chief wise woman, Sinnammu Mirpal, leads the tribe. But things are very bad for us now, outlander." She sighed – a little theatrically, I thought. "Soul sickness, blight storms, blight-sick animals, blight monsters come down from Red Mountain. They kill our men, eat our herds, and bring disease and famine. We must have help, or there will be nothing left."

Good grief. I hadn't realised things were as bad as that – the place actually looked quite pleasant compared to the Ashlands or Molag Amur.

"The 'corprus men' crawl out from under the mountain, and prey in the night like demons," she continued. "Our hunters and herders are scared to go out on the land. Lands to the west belong to the Urshilaku, lands to the south to the Zainab… and to the north? Water and monsters." She shook her head mournfully. "No safe haven for the Ahemmusa."

"Okay, I get the picture," I said hurriedly. "I'll just, er, go and find your white guar for you."

Her eyes lit up. "I _knew_ you were the one! I am certain this animal will appear for you. In my vision, I saw it where the path was forked, where the rocks grow from the earth like fingers on a hand."

I only hoped she was right, or I'd be wandering the Grazelands for weeks. I managed to find the road to the west without much difficulty, but after walking for a quarter of an hour, I was beginning to suspect that she'd been having me on. For all I knew, the tribe pulled this 'white guar' stunt on outlanders all the time.

However, a few minutes later I reached a fork in the path – and sure enough, right there behind a row of five stones, was a white guar. Well, I say 'white' – 'smudgy grey' was really a better description, but close enough. It turned its head towards me with a look of mild interest, but didn't move.

At this point a slight problem occurred to me: I hadn't bothered to think of how I'd get the guar back to the camp. I could hardly hoist it up onto my shoulders and carry it there. If I'd had a rope I could have tried a makeshift lasso, but I didn't.

"Here, boy," I said cautiously, taking a few steps towards the animal. It backed away immediately.

"Good guar. _Nice_ guar." I took another step forward, and again it backed away from me. "Come with me and I'll give you some nice… er…" What did guar like to eat, anyway?

I was just wondering what to do when the guar turned its back to me and began to lope off up a grassy slope. A few moments later it stopped and turned its head towards me expectantly, almost as if it wanted me to follow. Maybe it had found a kid trapped down a well somewhere.

I set off after the guar, which led on a short distance ahead of me, never letting me get quite close enough to touch it. At long last it stopped in front of a tree surrounded by rocks. As I drew closer, I saw a pair of legs poking out from behind a large stone.

The body of a young Dunmer woman lay behind the rock, her eyes staring blankly up at the sky. I couldn't see any injuries on her body, and she couldn't have been dead for long as the corpse hadn't decayed at all. She must be one of the Ahemmusa, I thought. But why hadn't the wise woman told me about her?

I quickly searched the body for clues to her identity, and found an amulet inscribed with the name 'Ashamanu'. It had an enchantment on it that looked like it could cure disease.

I took the amulet from her body and slipped it into my pouch. The guar was still hovering nearby. "Well, thanks for your help," I said, and immediately felt like an idiot for thinking it would understand. Though as I struggled to cast the Recall spell to get back to the camp, I could swear it was smirking at me.

Although I wondering how I was going to explain things to the wise woman, it turned out I didn't need to. "I have seen your journey in a vision," she said as soon as she saw me. "I know what the white guar led you to, and I know who she was. Ashamanu was a healer many, many years ago, who gave her own life to save the lives of others. You have witnessed a miracle, my child; you now hold the Amulet of Ashamanu."

Okay, so she'd been right about the guar. I still thought it would be easier just to have bought some potions – or sent a couple of healers to learn a _healing spell_ at one of the nearby _wizard settlements_. Why did people always have to make things so complicated?

"Glad to be of service, _sera_," I said solemnly, handing her the amulet. "I hope it helps your people. Now that I've done this for you, may I please speak to your chief wise woman?"

"If you wish," she said. "But first, you must show respect, and speak to one of our gulakhans. And take this shield in return for the amulet – it is a shield of legend among my people, the Shield of the Undaunted. Use it, and you will feel the strength return to weary limbs."

She gave me a chitin shield, similar to the ones carried by Ashlander tribesmen, but enchanted. I was running out of places to store all the magical presents people had given me since I arrived in Morrowind.

I stopped to eat lunch in the camp before going any further. While I was there I had a quick look around, and noticed that the people there did seem a bit thin and pale. The children in particular looked undernourished, and sat listlessly in front of their yurts, rather than scampering around like the ones I'd seen in other camps. And some of the animals were no more than skin and bone.

Why didn't they just go to the cities? I'd seen other Ashlanders who'd settled and found jobs there, people like Hassour Zainsubani. Okay, I could see how it would be a wrench to leave their ancestral homelands, but surely that was better than letting your kids starve? I didn't think I'd ever truly understand these people.

Afterwards I spoke to one of the gulakhans to explain what I'd just done for the tribe, and tell him my Nerevarine story. "You must forgive us," he said bluntly. "Perhaps these are great days, perhaps the prophecies are fulfilled – but to the Ahemmusa, all we know is that hunger and disease stalks us, and monsters prey upon us. Speak to the wise woman, Sinnammu Mirpal, and tell her you will find a safe place for our tribe."

A safe place? Where was I supposed to find a place to relocate an entire tribe? Maybe a Dwemer ruin or something… but they could hardly do much herding and hunting in a place like that. I could only hope Sinnammu Mirpal would have some ideas.

It turned out she did – though nothing like what I'd expected. "In seasons past, when threatened, the Ahemmusa could take shelter in the Daedric ruins of Ald Daedroth," she told me. "But now the priestess Hlireni Indavel has come and restored the shrine, and worshippers of Sheogorath dwell there, protected by terrible sorceries and summonings."

I nearly choked. "You use a shrine to _Sheogorath_ as a place to shelter?!"

"Indeed." The way she spoke, you'd think it was perfectly normal to camp out in Daedric shrines for months on end. "First, you will go to Ald Daedroth and make it safe for the Ahemmusa. Then you will return, and I will accompany you there, and if Ald Daedroth is a safe place for my people, then I will name you Nerevarine."

I wanted to object, but what could I say? It wasn't like I had any better ideas… well, in my view almost _anything_ would be better than sheltering in a shrine to a crazed demonic overlord, but Sinnammu clearly thought differently. If they really were so badly off, I guess things couldn't get much worse then they were already.

"How do I get there?" I asked. "And how can I make it safe for you?"

"The surface ruins are on an island a great distance north as the racer flies. If I may pass in safety to the old sanctuary and see the great statue in the inner shrine, then the place is safe for my people." She looked at me sternly. "I have not the arts of war, but I have courage. I wager my life against the safety of my people. But if Ald Daedroth is not safe, if I die on my journey… remember, you will not be named Ahemmusa Nerevarine."

With that dire warning, she shooed me out of the tent. After checking my gear, and making sure I had enough food, scrolls and potions, I set off to look for Ald Daedroth.

Sinnammu hadn't been exaggerating when she talked about 'a great distance'. I had to water-walk several miles to the north, and though I managed to stop on several smaller islands along the way, I only just avoided a salt-water bath. By the time I reached Ald Daedroth, the sun was sinking low in the sky and a cold wind nipped at my face. And it seemed that someone had got there before me.

I could hear the sounds of battle even before I reached the island. Once ashore, I stayed well out of the way until the spells stopped flying and then walked cautiously towards the shrine, sword drawn. A little way up the sloping shore stood a man in a priest's robe, who looked at me with deep suspicion.

"Who are you, outlander, and what are you doing here?" His expression darkened. "Are you here to worship at this foul shrine?"

The words 'foul shrine' told me that 'yes' was probably the wrong answer. "Me?" I blurted out. "I'm just here to look for treasure."

His face relaxed a little. "All right then, we don't care about that. In fact, you'll be doing us a favour if you kill a few witches and warlocks in the process. Just be careful, leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone."

Realisation dawned on me. "Are you guys Ordinators, by any chance?"

"Witchhunters," he said, with a grim smile. "We're here to clean out this den of Daedra worshippers. Just stay out of our way, and you'll be fine."

Gods. This complicated things a bit. I wondered how the Ahemmusa would feel about having to share their 'safe haven' with a bunch of Temple zealots.

The good part about the Ordinators' presence was that it meant I didn't have to do much actual fighting. Inside the shrine, I watched them duke it out with the Sheogorath cultists while keeping out of the way as much as possible (though occasionally I'd intervene if it looked like the Ordinators were getting the worst of it). Luckily they seemed to be quite competent.

The 'inner shrine' Sinnammu had mentioned was a large chamber flooded with seawater. On a raised platform in the centre was a huge statue of Sheogorath, the Madgod. Strangely enough, instead of some hideous monstrosity, it portrayed a well-dressed old gentleman with a cane – the better to fool unsuspecting mortals, so they say. Needless to say, I stayed well away from it – having _one_ Daedra Lord take an unsolicited interest in me was bad enough.

Since this part of the shrine was clear, it occurred to me that technically I could go back to Sinnammu and tell her I'd done what she asked. But I just couldn't do it – it would be blatant cheating, and I'd done quite enough of that recently. Besides, there were lives at stake here.

I waded on through the shrine until I reached a staircase leading to the upper level. Picking my way past dead bodies, I made my way up to the top floor, which the Daedra worshippers seemed to be using as living quarters. They even had a pet scamp there, like the one I'd seen in Caldera. I wondered if this one could talk.

An Orc in bonemold armour was standing close by. On the broken pillar next to him was a pile of moon sugar and a bottle of Cyrodiilic brandy. He spotted me looking at him, and scowled. "What? You never seen a Khajiit before?"

"Khajiit?"

"That's right. Ra'Gruzgob the Khajiit." He patted the seat of his pants. "How do you like my tail?"

"Um." Ought I to play along? "You… look more like an Orc to me."

"Orc? Ra'Gruzgob is no Orc! Ra'Gruzgob is Khajiit!"

Sigh. Worshippers of the God of Madness have to keep up appearances, I guess.

A robed Dark Elf woman drifted over from the far corner. There was a strangely vacant, dreamy expression on her face: although she could clearly see and hear me, she didn't seem 'all there' if you know what I mean. I suspected she'd been hitting the moon sugar pretty hard, like 'Ra'Gruzgob'.

"Hlireni Indavel?" I asked, guessing that this was the priestess Sinnammu had mentioned.

A smile spread across her face. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? Do you have your invitation? Are you a Player of the Game, or just a humble Spectator?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She sighed. "Dance with your partner. Swing the axe and mace. Rough and tumble, the spice of life and death. Don't you understand? Or do you want to die like a farmer?"

"I wasn't planning on dying at all," I said. "Or dancing, for that matter. I've come here because the Ahemmusa tribe need shelter in this shrine, and you're in their way."

Her smile widened. "So _sad_," she cooed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "We all shed a tear for the poor little savages. It's a terrible world for the little helpless things. But... life must have its little tragedies, mustn't it?"

I don't care what Athyn said, I wasn't in the mood for polite negotiations. "How about you leave them alone, and I _don't_ kill you?"

There was a tense silence. Hlireni's smile faded as she looked me over, noting my weapons and armour and grim expression.

"So the game is 'Challenge and Bluff," she said at last. "And, given the apparent high level of your skills, I hesitate to call your bluff. So… you win. I concede."

"You'll let the Ahemmusa stay here?"

She nodded. "I can't speak for the Ordinators, of course, but I promise you may bring the Ahemmusa here, and my followers will not harm them. I swear on the Mad God."

Good enough, I suppose. "Make sure you don't," I told her. "Because if anything happens to them, I'll come back here and gut you like a baby slaughterfish. Have a nice day."

With that nice parting shot, I cast a Recall spell – which fizzled out without doing anything. So did the second attempt – and now I was out of magicka. Oops.

"Ahem." I said. "Excuse me." Hlireni watched with narrowed eyes as I fished a magicka restoration potion out of my pack. I think it may have spoiled the effect slightly.

I finally managed to cast the spell correctly and return to the camp, where I told Sinnammu Mirpal what had happened, and we agreed to travel to Ald Daedroth together the next morning. She let me sleep in her tent that night, as I was too tired to walk back to Vos. As we were making preparations to leave the next day, I wondered how she was going to get across to the island. "Can you water-walk?" I asked her.

She nodded. "I have not the arts of war, but I am a wise woman, and not without power. I can walk upon the water... perhaps not so fast as a great witch-warrior, but fast enough."

Probably better than me, in other words. I just hoped I could manage the journey again without running out of magicka.

All went well until about half-way through our journey, when a couple of cliff racers swooped in on us as we were crossing the water. I leapt in front of the unarmed Sinnammu to fight them off, and in all the excitement I forgot to recast the Water Walking spell. Just as we were setting off again, the spell wore off and I plunged into the sea.

I resurfaced, coughing and spluttering, and hurriedly recast the spell before the icy water could freeze my hands. "Thought I saw a slaughterfish," I explained to Sinnammu, with an 'I totally meant to do that' expression. I'm not sure she was _entirely_ convinced, but she didn't say anything.

Luckily the Ordinators had left by the time we reached the shrine (I'd been wondering how I was going to explain that one). I led Sinnammu into the inner shrine to show her that it was safe… at least, as safe as a shrine to the Daedric Prince of Madness could ever be. She looked around at the spiked ceiling, the twisted, jagged pillars, the knee-deep water covering the floor… and then she smiled.

"You have made this place safe for the Ahemmusa," she said, turning back to me. "And so, if you wish, I shall name you Nerevarine."

I could think of a thousand objections. How would the Ahemmusa drain out the floodwater to make the place liveable? Where were they going to get food and fresh water? How would they handle sharing their new home with a bunch of Sheogorath worshippers? But in the end, it wasn't really any of my business. If she wanted to bring her tribe here, that was up to her.

"Thank you, Sinnammu," I said at last, hoping I was doing the right thing. "It's an honour. I'm glad I could help you, and… I hope things will improve for you once you and your people move in here."

_Just, whatever you do, don't touch that statue…_


	33. Chapter 33: Cooking The Books

**Chapter 33: Cooking The Books**

So the Ahemmusa were moving into their new holiday home, and now I'd been declared Nerevarine by _two_ of the Ashlander tribes. I only hoped they'd be OK in there with all the mad cultists and Daedric statues and whatnot. Sinnammu rewarded me with an amulet called the 'Madstone of the Ahemmusa', but forgot to tell me that it had a 'sound' enchantment designed to confuse and disorient people. I accidentally cast it on myself, and had ringing in my ears for the rest of the day.

I'd been planning to visit my stronghold that day, but got back to Ald'ruhn to find myself in the middle of the worst ashstorm I'd ever seen. It was late in Sun's Dusk now, and the freezing winter wind was nearly as bad as the dust clouds lashing my face. There was no way I could go out to Bal Isra in a storm like that – just walking from the Temple to the Mages' Guild was difficult enough.

The wind had died down a bit by the next day, but it was still extremely cold. I wrapped up warm and wore my closed ebony helmet – the one Llerar Mandas had given me for helping his son Arethan – just in case any more storms blew up. It was twice as heavy as my usual Legion helmet, and by the time I reached Bal Isra, my neck was aching from the weight.

The building site didn't look all that different from the outside, though some of the construction materials had been removed or shifted around a bit. "Is the next stage complete yet?" I asked the foreman, who was sitting on a packing crate enjoying a tea break.

He nodded. "You want to see inside? Go ahead. Take a look."

I entered the building cautiously, expecting to see the place strewn with building materials and covered in sawdust. The sight that greeted me was so astounding that for a moment I thought I must be imagining things.

The door opened onto a large entrance hall, not filled with junk and sawdust but clean, tidy – and _furnished_. A dining table stood in the centre, while chairs and benches had been placed around the walls. A small alcove at the back of the room held several urns, baskets and barrels. The floor was paved and the walls freshly decorated, with intricate patterns similar to those I'd seen in the mansions under Skar. There was a _carpet_ on the floor.

There was absolutely no way this place had been built in two weeks. No way.

I was still gazing around in disbelief when a Dunmer man entered the room through a side-door. "What are you – " he began, and then he saw my Redoran shield. "Ah. Are you here to inspect the building work?"

I nodded wordlessly. "Forgive me, _sera_. My name is Viras Guls. I will be the Hetman of this new settlement when it is complete."

"Pleased to meet you," I said mechanically.

There were a few seconds of awkward silence. "Would you like to see the rest of the manor?" he asked at last.

I nodded again, and he led me down the stairs into the main part of the building. If anything, this bit was even more unbelievable. It wasn't fully furnished yet, but there were tables and chairs and shelves and storage containers – even a _bar_, for crying out loud.

How could I not have realised this before? _Indarys Manor!_ This place hadn't been built for me, had it?

I managed to calm down enough to thank the Hetman, and used my Intervention amulet to transport me back to Ald'ruhn. Minutes later I marched through the door of Galsa Gindu's office under Skar. "Galsa? We need to talk about my stronghold."

"Why – yes, the first stage of building should be complete." She backed away slightly, seeing the expression on my face. "Is – is something the matter?"

"I went out there today to see the building. And I went _into_ it."

Her mouth snapped shut. "Ah."

"I'm not an idiot, Galsa. And even if I were, I could still see that place wasn't built in two weeks." I took a step forward. "If this is some kind of joke you guys are playing on me – "

"No! Listen to me, House Brother." Galsa leapt up from her seat. "You're quite right, the building work started several months ago. Please, just give me a chance to explain."

I folded my arms, my eyes fixed grimly on her face. Galsa took a deep breath. "As you know, it's forbidden to build new Great House settlements without a construction contract from the Duke. About eight months ago, we received… reliable information… that the other Houses had begun to build strongholds of their own without permission. We did not want them to gain an advantage over us, but at the time there were political problems which prevented us from obtaining a contract."

"So you started to build one _without_ a contract?"

She nodded. "The work was carried out in secret. We chose Bal Isra because of its remote location, far from the main cities."

It was all starting to make sense now. _That_ was why they'd chosen to build in the middle of nowhere, on a site that couldn't even be seen from the nearest road. So much for all that talk about Redoran honour…

"The work was funded by a Redoran lord named Banden Indarys," she continued. "But someone in House Hlaalu or Telvanni must have discovered our plans. Just as the main building was nearing completion, Lord Indarys met with an unfortunate… accident." _Ah_. "And so the construction work was halted, until we could find another Redoran to head the settlement."

"And the 5,000 drakes I paid – "

"Were to restart construction. There are still the workers to be paid, and extra materials that must be purchased." She sighed. "Forgive me for not telling you the whole truth before now. But I'm sure you'll understand why we wished to keep the matter as quiet as possible."

I opened my mouth to reply, then paused. I was still a bit pissed off about being lied to, but really, what could I say? I'd basically been given someone else's stronghold at a knock-down price. Having it named after him was a pretty small price to pay.

"All right," I said at last. "Well, thanks for explaining everything, Galsa. Does this mean _I'm_ a target for assa- ahem, 'unfortunate accidents' now?"

She shook her head. "Now that the work is legal, they would not dare. They would be leaving themselves open to retaliation."

She'd better be right about that, I thought. "Okay, fine. Is there anything else I need to do in the meantime?"

"If you wish to improve your stronghold, you must hire some guards. Percius Mercius at the local Guild of Fighters may know of some good Redoran fighters out of work."

I hadn't seen Percius since I killed the Guild leaders in Balmora and Vivec, and I still didn't quite feel ready to face him again. "Okay, I'll think about it," I said, and left her to get on with her work.

On my way out of the Council halls I ran into Neminda, who was manning her usual spot by the entrance. "Ada!" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in weeks. Getting too grand and important for us lesser minions?" she added with a wink.

"Of course not," I said, hugging her. "I've just been… rather busy, that's all."

"Yes, I've heard… rumours." Her brow furrowed slightly. "I hope you know what you're getting into, Ada."

My mouth felt very dry all of a sudden. "Rumours?"

"Well, I know Tuls Valen at the temple is very keen to speak to you," she said. "If I were you, I'd go and talk to him. It can only make things worse for you if he thinks you're hiding something from him."

My heart sank, but I thanked her and agreed to visit the Temple as soon as I could. It was pretty clear that my secret was out, even if people weren't yet sure whether to believe it. I suppose I might have expected this after what had happened recently.

I went to Sarethi Manor after lunch, hoping I might see Varvur, but he wasn't there. His mother Domesea, her eyes shining with pride, told me that he'd volunteered for a week-long expedition in the Ashlands – in fact, he'd specifically asked to be sent along. He could hardly have made it clearer that he didn't want to see me, and it felt like a slap in the face. He might not be interested in me any more – if he ever had been – but I'd hoped we could still stay friends.

Though Varvur wasn't at home, his father was, so I took the opportunity to tell him all about the Great Stronghold Conspiracy. Half-way through I realised that he wasn't looking at all surprised. "Athyn, did you _know_ about this?"

"But of course, my friend. Did you think such a task could be undertaken without the Council's knowledge?"

"But – " I broke off, shaking my head. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Athyn sighed. "Perhaps I should have done, but I feared you might take offence. You have pride, Ada, I know that."

"Well, yes, but… oh, never mind. It doesn't matter." I couldn't bring myself to quarrel with Athyn. "Anyway, I've found two other Councillors to support me, and built a stronghold. Is there anything more you need me to do for the House?"

"Not immediately, though I can raise you to the rank of House Father if you wish. You have certainly proven your skill in combat. If you wish to reach the next rank, you'll need to improve your stronghold, and earn the support of two more Councillors – Miner Arobar and Garisa Llethri."

A horrible suspicion gripped me. "Hold on a minute, what _is_ the next rank? I'm not going to end up having to duel you to the death, am I?"

Athyn's lips twitched, but he shook his head gravely. "No, indeed. It's true that the next rank is that of Councillor, but ever since Arethan Mandas'… illness, there has been an empty seat on the Council."

"The Council?" I winced. "I'm not sure, Athyn. It's a great honour, I know, but… I really don't know if I'm up to it, to be honest. I don't really have any kind of political experience…"

"I understand. Still, I think you should seek the other Councillors' support even if you don't wish to join the Council yourself." He paused. "I must warn you that people in town are beginning to talk about you and the prophecies. I don't believe the rumours have reached the ears of my fellow councillors, but it can only be a matter of time."

I nodded gloomily. "Athyn… when all this _does_ become public, what happens then? Will you have to… suspend me from the House, or something?"

"No. I have promised you my support, and I will stand by that." He smiled. "Try not to worry too much about it, Ada. Continue as you are, and all will be well."

I hoped he was right, but I wasn't convinced. Things seemed to be spiralling out of control – first the Legion, now House Redoran? To be honest, I couldn't understand why Athyn would even want me on the Council – no matter how fond he was of me, he surely had to see that I wasn't the political type. He'd said as much himself just a few days ago.

I put the thought aside and went to speak to Miner Arobar, Athyn's fellow Councillor. I was kept waiting for quite a while before being allowed in to see him, and when I did finally meet him, he was looking tired and harassed. "What do you want, outlander?" he asked, as soon as I entered the room. "You must explain why you have come here, and quickly."

"Right, well – "

"No speeches or excuses," he continued. "Use your words with care, for I am a councillor of House Redoran and a very busy man with many duties and responsibilities."

"Okay, well – "

"My time is precious, and cannot be wasted. I am not one to stand about idly while others chatter on and on about the most trivial of subjects."

"Would-you-give-me-your-support-on-the-Council-please-Councillor?" I asked, all in one breath.

He blinked. "What was that you said? You want me to support you on the Council? You are a Redoran, then?"

His servant had clearly introduced me by my rank no more than ten seconds ago. "Yes, _serjo_," I said, trying not to sound impatient. "I'm a House Father. Athyn Sarethi is my sponsor, and I'm having a stronghold built at Bal Isra."

"Ah yes, I believe he did mention… Then you are the outlander Sarethi spoke of?" He stared at me in confusion, very obviously thinking 'how did this Imperial chit get to be a House Father in two months?' Not that I could blame him, really.

"I'm afraid I am unable to grant your request," he said at last. "I respect you personally, but I cannot give you my support."

What? He'd only just met me. "But – "

He held up a hand. "No. I am not prepared to discuss this, _sera_. I have given you my answer; now please leave my manor."

There wasn't much I could do except bow politely and leave. In a way I was quite relieved – at least this gave me an excuse to put off becoming a Councillor – but I couldn't help wondering what had made him turn against me so abruptly. Was it something I said?

The last Councillor on my 'list' was Garisa Llethri – the 'Lord of the Northern Ashlands', according to my Little Red Book. He was clearly doing well for himself, as his manor was almost as large and imposing as Archmaster Venim's. Llethri himself seemed irritable and not particularly friendly, but he did at least seem willing to listen to me.

"If you want my support to make you a Councilman, you will have to perform a great service for House Redoran," he told me, when I explained what I wanted. "The Caldera ebony mines are in our territory, but the charter was awarded to an Imperial company. I believe the mines should be shut down."

I waited for him to elaborate. "First I want you to find evidence that there is corruption at the mines. Since they are run by the dishonourable House Hlaalu and the Empire, I am sure there is corruption. Do not take any other actions until you have delivered the evidence to me."

I almost had to laugh at this – "Well, the Hlaalu and the Imperials run the place, so it _must_ be corrupt." Still, I presumed he did have _some_ actual reason to believe this. "What sort of corruption are you thinking of, _serjo_?" I asked. "And where should I look for evidence?"

He shrugged. "Look for journals or record books. Interrogate the miners. I am sure there is corruption there, and I have faith that you will find it." Gods, it was like working for Caius Cosades all over again.

By the time I got out of Skar, I have to admit that I was feeling a bit stumped. All I had to go on was that there was some kind of corruption at the Caldera mines, somewhere, possibly. I mean, were we talking major fraud here? Or just the kind of petty theft you'll inevitably get in any large organisation? ("_Serjo_, I have clear evidence that the treacherous Hlaalu are stealing inkwells from the stationery cupboard.")

At any event, it was obvious that I couldn't just go in there and announce myself as a Redoran investigator. I briefly thought of going in my Legion capacity, but quickly realised that would make the entire office clam up like… well, clams. If only I belonged to something like the East Empire Company, I thought… and then the ghost of an idea began to form.

I spent the rest of the day mulling things over, and as I did, a plan gradually took shape. The next day I travelled to Vivec and made a couple of purchases: black hair-dye, and a jar of face make-up (the type that actors might use for a play). After that I went to visit the clothier Agrippina Herennia in the Foreign Quarter, hoping she might have some Cyrodiilic imports for sale. Luckily she had exactly what I wanted, though it was hideously expensive.

The next part was more complicated. I dug out the list of Blades trainers Caius had given me long ago, and went to see the Caldera representative, a Breton mage named Surane Leoriane. She confirmed that the Blades were keeping an eye on the Caldera Mining Company for the Empire, and suspected them of corruption.

"We all think something fishy is going on – probably several somethings," she told me. "But we haven't penetrated their operation. They're probably skimming cash, or raw ebony, or both – but we're not quite sure who 'they' are."

"Suppose I were to try and find out for you," I said. "Would you be willing to help me?"

After I explained what I wanted to do, she thought for a minute and finally nodded. "All right, I'll help you – as long as you keep me informed. I don't even mind you sharing this information with House Redoran, but you must bring it to me _first_. If you do find any evidence, I want to see it before you take it to your friends in the House."

As the ranking Blades agent I could technically have refused, but I preferred the quiet life. "Okay. You've got a deal."

She agreed to let me stay in her house overnight, as I didn't want too many people to see me in my disguise. While Surane disappeared off to Ebonheart, I dyed my hair, styled it carefully, and tried on the clothes and make-up to check that they worked. Seeing my reflection in the mirror was almost scary – dressed in a fashionable Western-style gown, with dark hair and an olive complexion, I looked the picture of a Nibenese official fresh off the boat from Imperial City. I hardly recognised myself.

I was relying on Surane to provide the finishing touch, and she didn't disappoint. She returned from Ebonheart that evening, bringing a set of impressively official-looking papers for me to show to the mine authorities. I don't know how she got hold of them, and I preferred not to ask. After that she spent some time coaching me in how to play my 'part' – I just hoped I wouldn't slip up and give myself away.

Walking to the Caldera mines the next morning was a slightly nerve-wracking experience. Usually I'd carry my sword everywhere, even if I wasn't wearing armour, but it wouldn't really have fitted in with my 'disguise'. It's a good thing I didn't run into any bandits or wild animals, since all I had to fight them with was a small dagger lent to me by Surane.

But the scariest part by far was approaching the company offices at the entrance to the mine. Could I really pull this off? I guess this would prove once and for all whether I really could act. I breathed in deeply, trying to channel every obnoxious bureaucrat I'd ever met, and marched into the building.

A Dunmer man, who was eating breakfast at a small table, got hastily to his feet. "Yes, _sera_? May I help you?"

"Indeed you can." I presented my papers with a flourish. "I am Messalina Borgia of the Imperial Audit Commission. Would you please direct me to the head of mining operations?"

The man's face had turned rather pale. "Th- the Audit Commission?" he repeated, in a slightly strangled voice. "I – I didn't – " He turned abruptly towards the stairway leading to the upper floor. "Meanen!"

A few moments later, a well-dressed Altmer man appeared at the top of the stairs. For a moment I struggled to hide the reflexive awkwardness I always felt around Altmer. Surane's words rang in my ears: "_Whatever happens, remember this: You don't give a damn about any of these people. They are beneath contempt. All you care about is finishing the job so you can get back to your nice cosy office in Talos Plaza._"

"Are you in charge here, sir?" I asked coldly, as Meanen (if that was his name) glided down the stairs. "I must admit, I was expecting to find things a little better organised."

The Altmer's mouth dropped open. "What – " he began, and then recovered himself. "The mine owners are Cunius Pelelius and Odral Helvi. Both of them are in Caldera at present, but I'm sure we can answer any questions you may have. Now what exactly – "

"She's from the Audit Commission, Meanen," the Dunmer cut in.

"Ah. I see." Meanen glanced briefly at the papers I presented for his inspection. "Forgive me, my lady. I was… not informed that an inspection was imminent."

"Well, of course you weren't. Wouldn't want to give you time to hide the evidence, would we?" I laughed heartily at my own joke. The others joined in, a little less enthusiastically.

"I assure you there is no 'evidence' for you to find, _sera_," Meanen said at last. "Having you arrive at such short notice is… not entirely convenient, but I think you'll find that everything is in order. I'm sure Stlennius here would be happy to show you around."

By now his Dunmer friend seemed to have recovered a little. "Of course. Did you walk here from Caldera alone, my lady?" he asked me, as Meanen made his way back upstairs. "I'm surprised you would take the risk. Perhaps you haven't heard that there are bandits on the roads who attack lone travellers?"

"Nonsense, my good man!" I said briskly. "They wouldn't dare. Now where was I? Ah yes, the inspection. I'll need to see all of your invoices, stock records, bank details, profit and loss accounts, and sales ledgers for the past two years."

The colour was starting to drain from his face again. "_Two years_? I – many of those records are in storage, Sera Borgia. It will take quite some time to find them for you."

I sighed in mock exasperation. "_When_ will you people learn the importance of proper record-keeping? Very well. I'll wait here for as long as it takes." As he bowed apologetically, flushed with embarrassment, I hissed under my breath, "_Provincials!_"

The expression on Stlennius' face defied description. I was starting to enjoy this.

He returned a short while later with crates and boxes full of financial records, and left me alone to examine them. It was such a massive task that I hardly knew where to start. Surane had given me a quick run-down of what went on at the mines, but there was still quite a lot I didn't understand, so I didn't want to ask too many probing questions.

I began to look through one of the recent ledgers, painstakingly adding up the figures to check for discrepancies. There weren't any – the sums were perfect. In fact, almost too perfect.

When I was sixteen, my adoptive father – in a vain attempt to get me interested in his line of work – had arranged for me to work as a bookkeeper in one of his warehouses. I'd lasted two weeks before giving up, but in that time I'd learned that getting the sums exactly right was near impossible. There would always be a few little errors – but this ledger didn't have any errors. What was more, the figures seemed a little too 'neat' – too many tidy, round sums with only vague descriptions.

Getting suspicious now, I chose a few entries at random and searched for the corresponding invoices. All but two of them were missing. This ledger is a fake, I thought. A pretty clever fake, but still a fake. But how could I prove it?

What I really needed was to get someone here to talk, but there wasn't much chance of that. Unless, perhaps…

I went back to Stlennius, who by now was eating his midday meal. (What sort of work did he actually do, anyway?) "Very well, I've finished with the books," I said curtly. "And now I need to check on your slaves, if you please."

"To visit the _slaves_, my lady? What for?"

"Well, they are company assets, are they not? And of course, you've included their food and upkeep as tax-deductible expenses." I narrowed my eyes. "Perhaps there's some reason why you would _not_ want me to see them?"

"Of course not," he said hastily. "I'll take you right away."

He led me out of the office and into the miners' bunkhouse, where a trapdoor in the floor led down to the slave huts. I followed, complaining loudly about the dust and uneven floors. Keeping up the 'snotty Imperial lady' act was getting quite tiresome.

"This is where you'll find the head slave Dahleena," he said, indicating one of the shacks. "She keeps the others in order. The rest will be in the mine at this time of day, if you want to see them."

"I see. Well, thank you. You may go now," I said graciously. He turned away, biting his lip.

I entered the miserable little shack, and found a half-naked Khajiit woman sitting on one of the bedrolls. Somehow she didn't seem as downtrodden as most of the other slaves I'd seen – though she was thin and mangy, with worn patches of fur on her skin, there was a look of defiance in her eyes. She could be just what I needed.

"Hello, Dahleena," I said cautiously. I knew that some slaves, for reasons I'd never really understood, were loyal to their masters. "I've come to inspect the mines. Are you okay here? Do your masters treat you well?"

A hiss of disgust was her only reply. I leaned forward, speaking in a low voice. "A friend of mine thinks there may be fraud and corruption at the mines. Do you know about anything like that? You might have heard some of the miners talk, perhaps?"

Her eyes lit up with a vicious glint. "Oh yes, they talk. You want evidence? You let Dahleena go free if she tells you this?"

I hesitated. I'd have loved to free her, but there could hardly have been a worse time for it. "I will," I said at last. "I can't do it now, but if you tell me what I want to know, I'll come back later and free you."

"And how can Dahleena be sure you will come back?"

I thought for a moment. Finally, with some reluctance, I slipped the Moon-and-Star ring off my finger. It was quite a risk, but I couldn't think of anything else I could give her to make her trust me.

"This ring is very important to me," I told her. "If you make sure to hide it carefully, I'll let you keep it, and then you can give it back to me when I come to free you."

She nodded. "Dahleena will hide it well. And now she tells you where to get your evidence. Odral Helvi has a chest on the second floor of the Governor's Hall, in Caldera. Unlock the chest and you will find a book – a record book. Bring this book back to your friend, and watch his eyes when he smiles."

"Thank you, Dahleena," I said. "I promise I'll come back as soon as I have the book." First spying, and impersonating Imperial officials, and now stealing from the Governor of Caldera? The things I do for you, Azura, I thought.

I didn't even think about trying to steal the book myself. I had some lockpicking skills, but I knew my limitations, and I wasn't going to risk my neck trying to break into a heavily-guarded manor. Instead, once I'd assured a relieved Stlennius and Meanen that everything was in order, I went to Surane Leoriane to ask for advice.

"This business is more trouble than it's worth," she said in exasperation. "All right, I'll try talking to some contacts in the Thieves' Guild. But you'll have to pay for it."

I ended up handing over a thousand septims to pay the Guild. This 'rooting out corruption' business was getting bloody expensive. For a moment I wondered how Garisa Llethri would react if I asked him for expenses – certainly that was what 'Messalina Borgia' would have done.

The price was well worth it, though. Two days later, a parcel was hand-delivered to me at the Mages' Guild in Ald'ruhn. It contained a ledger from the Caldera mines – a _real_ one this time – showing a steady flow of raw ebony from the mines to something called the 'Ashlands Management Fund'. It seemed I'd struck gold – or rather, ebony.

I took the ledger to Llethri Manor to show to Lord Llethri. While I was there, he introduced me to his wife Fathasa – the one who was rumoured to be having an affair with Bolvyn Venim. I noticed that she was both a lot younger than her husband, and a lot more attractive. She was very polite, but for some reason I got the feeling she didn't like me very much.

Llethri himself was as short-tempered as ever, but he seemed almost cheerful when I showed him the ledger. "Good, yes, very good," he said. "This book shows that the Hlaalu are taking more ebony than they report to the Empire. Now that I have this evidence, I want you to find a way to shut down the mines."

"And if the owners find out we did it?"

"Then we can show them these books to justify our actions." His expression darkened. "The Empire has taken enough of Red Mountain's blood. The ebony belongs to the Dunmer."

Maybe it ought to belong to the slaves who actually mined it, I thought sourly. Still, I'd promised to free Dahleena in any case; maybe she'd have some ideas on how to stop the mining.

That night, wearing Caius' black clothes and my Chameleon-enchanted jewellery, I snuck out of Caldera after dark and made my way back to the mines. Dahleena and some of the other slaves were asleep in their hut, as guards with lanterns patrolled the grounds. They looked up at me in silent fear as I slipped in through the door of the shack.

"Dahleena?" I whispered.

She sat bolt upright. "Ah, friend! Here is your ring, quite safe. You have the key to free us?"

Drat, I'd forgotten about that. "Wait here a moment," I told her. I headed outside, and hid in the shadows until a lone guard wandered past. Swiftly, I crept up behind him and used my Star of the West power to knock him out.

I dragged the body into the slave shack so it wouldn't be found, and searched his pockets until I found the slave key. "One more thing before I free you," I said to Dahleena. "My friend wants the mining to stop. Can you free the other slaves as well?"

She nodded her head fiercely. "Yes! Dahleena is head of all slaves. Let Dahleena go free and there will be no more mining!"

"Okay, I'll trust you to do it," I said, hoping she was telling the truth. "Good luck, Dahleena." I removed her slave bracer and handed her the key, and quickly cast the Almsivi Intervention enchantment to take me back to Ald'ruhn.

When I went to see Garisa Llethri the next day, he was looking very pleased with himself. "It seems there was a slave revolt at the Caldera Mines last night," he told me. "Perhaps you had something to do with this?"

I explained what I'd done the previous night. "Interesting choice," he said, nodding slowly. "Good slaves are so hard to find these days... I expect the Hlaalu will not resume mining for at least a month. Well, you have earned my support on the Council, and I want you to keep these fine boots made from the blood of Red Mountain."

I hardly knew what to say. The truth was that I didn't really _like_ Garisa Llethri all that much, but a gift of ebony boots was astoundingly generous, even from a guy as rich as he was. I was actually rather touched, especially after what he'd said earlier about the Empire. I could hardly ask him for expenses after this – those boots had to be worth five times what I'd paid out.

"Are you sure, _serjo_?" I asked. "Well… thank you. It's extremely kind of you."

I didn't tell him about the Blades, of course. I couldn't help wondering what they would do with the information – and what they would think about us Redorans keeping it to ourselves, rather than doing the honourable thing and reporting it to the Empire. Oh well, it was his problem, not mine... for the moment, at least.


	34. Chapter 34: An Offer You Can't Refuse

**Chapter 34: An Offer You Can't Refuse**

In all the excitement of industrial espionage in Caldera, I'd forgotten to visit Tuls Valen at the Temple. I hadn't noticed it before – perhaps because there were so few people out in this terrible weather – but now that I thought about it, people _did_ seem to be looking at me strangely as I walked through the streets. I attracted quite a few suspicious sidelong glances, and heard more than one whispered conversation as I passed by.

I went to see Tuls Valen immediately after my midday meal, but ended up wishing I hadn't. He greeted me politely and asked after my health, but underneath it all, I could see that he was seething. "Cast your mind back a few months, Acolyte," he said, his expression grim. "You may remember that I asked you to chastise a False Incarnate?"

"I remember," I said quietly.

"Quite. And now I am hearing rumours that _you_ are a False Incarnate." His frown deepened. "Would you care to explain this?"

"It's not true," I said, holding his gaze steadily.

"Not true? There is no truth in it at all?"

"Well… _partly_ true, perhaps," I admitted.

"_Partly_ true?"

"Yes," I said. "Exactly one-half true, in fact. You see –"

Valen's expression had turned distinctly ugly. "So this is a joke to you?" he interrupted, speaking through clenched teeth. "Well, I must tell you that I am not amused. A warning, Acolyte: You belong to the Temple, so we owe you courtesy. But others may not be so polite, and may choose weapons instead of speech."

I opened my mouth to reply. "No, no excuses. I am not yet convinced, but I no longer trust you. Like Elvil Vidron, if your claim is true, you must prove it to Archcanon Saryoni in Vivec."

He turned and stalked off without giving me a chance to respond. Well, that went well.

Something told this might be a good time to get out of Ald'ruhn. Like, _now_. Going to plead my case with the remaining Telvanni councillors was suddenly starting to look like a really good idea.

Archmagister Gothren's wizard tower was Tel Aruhn, on an island near Sadrith Mora. I'd hoped to get a boat there from the city, but quickly got into an argument with a shipmaster who he said he couldn't take me there. "What do you mean, you can't go there? It's less than a mile away! I can see it from here!"

He was unmoved. "I can take you to Dagon Fel, Ebonheart, Tel Mora or Tel Branora. That's it."

Exasperated, I teleported back to Wolverine Hall and used the Guild Guide to get to Vivec. I wasn't going to waste yet more of my time and magicka on Water Walking, just because the Telvanni couldn't organise transport between two towns right next to each other. After a quick trip to the High Fane to use the levitation shrine – sorry, Lord Vivec – I returned to Sadrith Mora and flew over the water to Tel Aruhn.

The Tel Aruhn village was a pretty typical Telvanni settlement. It was rather sad really – I'd found these places so awe-inspiring at first, and now all I could think was "oh, another mushroom tower". It struck me that by now I'd seen pretty much all Vvardenfell had to offer, and that soon these places would be as familiar to me as the West Weald or the Imperial Isle.

I found Gothren in a 'throne room' similar to Aryon's, flanked by two hefty-looking Dremora bodyguards. Perhaps my meetings with Aryon and Dratha had made me over-optimistic, but I was quite encouraged by how he treated me… at least at first.

"I understand perfectly," he said, once I'd finished explaining about the prophecies. "Your story makes sense. Your proofs are persuasive..."

"Then you'll agree to name me Hortator?"

"But a decision on such a remarkable matter is a grave responsibility," he continued, "and not to be taken in haste. I will need some time to reflect and consider, and to confer with the other Telvanni councillors."

My heart sank. "Archmagister," I said, "Master Aryon warned me that you might promise to do that, and then just put off the decision indefinitely. Please, _serjo_: if the answer is no, just tell me so right away. I really don't want to waste any more of our time on this."

In a fraction of a second, Gothren's expression had changed from a bland smile to an ugly scowl. "Very well," he said shortly. "I have heard your story. And you are not one of us, so I suppose I'll have to explain – or you'll just keep annoying me. I have no intention of naming you Hortator of House Telvanni."

"May I ask why not?"

He shrugged. "It is not in Telvanni interests to name an unknown and unreliable outlander and outsider to such an important position. My opinion will not change. If you persist in bothering me, you will regret it."

"I see," I said, swallowing my resentment. "You do realise this means I'll have to try and kill you at some point?"

Gothren laughed derisively. Clearly he didn't consider me enough of a threat to be worth getting angry about. "You're welcome to try, outlander. I shall look forward to it."

I left the tower feeling a bit disheartened. I didn't want to kill Gothren, and for that matter, I had no idea _how_ to. I'd just have to visit the other Telvanni councillors while I tried to come up with something.

My next target was Master Neloth, who lived in the tower of Tel Naga in Sadrith Mora. Aryon had warned me that Neloth had a foul temper, and I didn't want a repeat of the Gothren experience. I wondered if anyone might know of a way to sweeten him up. A Dunmer woman at the Mages' Guild, Uleni Heleran, told me I should speak to his Mouth in the Telvanni Council Hall.

"His mouth?" I said, confused.

"No, his Mouth. A Mouth is a person appointed by a Telvanni Councillor to speak on their behalf, and cast votes in the Council."

I decided to pay a visit to the Council Hall. It was a strange building – a sort of huge, gelatinous sphere surrounded by mushroom tendrils. Inside I found myself in a large round chamber full of glowing crystals, with five Telvanni mages standing on platforms high above me. I suddenly felt very small.

"Which of you is Master Neloth's Mouth?" I called, and cringed back as my voice echoed around the room.

After a moment, a dark-haired woman stepped forward. "I am Arara Uvulas, the Mouth of Master Neloth. What do you want?"

"I need to ask a favour from him." Gods, this was embarrassing – wasn't there any way to speak to a Mouth in private? "Can you tell me how I should approach him? Is there anything I should or shouldn't say?"

Uvulas was silent for a minute. "He will probably refuse whatever you ask," she said at last. "The only thing I can tell you for certain is to avoid mentioning Archmagister Gothren. He and Master Neloth are… not on the best of terms."

Really? Hmm. Perhaps I could use that somehow.

There was no way directly into Master Neloth's chambers, so I entered Tel Naga through the lower level and flew up an _enormous_ chute to reach the upper floors. Neloth was sitting alone in a bare, candlelit chamber, and looked as if I were the very last thing he wanted to see right now. As I approached him he slammed down the book he was reading and directed a poisonous glare in my direction. "Whatever you want, the answer is no."

"Master Neloth!" I exclaimed, ignoring him completely, and sweeping a low bow. "I've come here to ask for your help."

"Did you hear what I _said_?"

"Yes, Master Neloth, but – "

"Then what are you still doing here? Out!"

"I'm going to kill Gothren," I said.

_That _got his attention. "Kill Gothren?" he spluttered. "You? A chit of a girl like you? And how do you propose to do that, pray?"

"I have a Plan," I said, lying through my teeth. "But I need the other Councillors' support in order to carry it out. You see, I need to be the Telvanni Hortator."

"Hortator? We need a Hortator? Why doesn't anyone tell me about these things?" He shook his head in exasperation. "If I make you Hortator, will you _go away_?"

"Of course." I handed him Aryon's declaration. He scrawled his signature at the bottom without even reading it, and flung it back at me, taking up his book. "Now get out!"

I didn't wait to be told twice. I was half expecting him to hurl the book at my head as I scuttled out of the room.

As I was leaving through the Great Hall on the bottom floor, I noticed something for the first time. On one side of the room was a large cage-like structure carved out of the wall, and there was someone inside it – a young Dunmer woman in ragged and dirty clothing, presumably a slave. As I paused to look at her, her eyes widened and she grasped at the bars with an imploring look. I ached to help her, but with three other people in the room there was no way I could do it without starting a fight.

The only Councillor left now was Therana. Unfortunately her tower, Tel Branora, was several days' travel away from both Vivec and Sadrith Mora. The only other settlement anywhere nearby was Molag Mar – which, luckily, happened to have a Temple. By casting Almsivi Intervention from Sadrith Mora and then flying south, I managed to reach Tel Branora by late evening.

I'd been here once before, after I helped that silly Breton girl – what was her name again? – who'd fallen in love with a highwayman. Flying over the spires of Tel Branora, I saw that Mistress Therana's Telvanni challenger was still camped out on the outskirts of the village. I wondered how long it would take before she finally gave up and went home.

The minute I entered the tower, I could see there was something a little _different_ about this place. For a start, the entrance chamber was full of kwama eggs. Hanging from the walls and ceilings, lying around the floor, arranged in a circular pattern around the edge of a table… even fixed to the wall as decorative candle holders. There were more of them scattered around on the next floor up, along with overturned furniture and dirty eating utensils.

None of the Telvanni retainers standing around the tower had made any attempt to clean up. I was too polite to ask them about it, but I couldn't help wondering what the heck was going on here. When I reached Therana's chambers, I soon realised.

The first thing I noticed when I entered the room was a naked male Khajiit standing on a bedroll. I was still staring in astonishment when Therana herself, an ancient-looking woman dressed in an exquisite golden robe, strode up and grabbed me by the arm. "What are you here for?" she demanded. "Are you here to feed the spiders?"

"N-no, Mistress," I stammered. Were those _books_ burning in the fire behind her? "I've come here because I want to be Hortator of House Telvanni."

Therana nodded. "It's a funny sort of house," she said reflectively, "with all those glowing blue crystals all over it. Did I ever tell you about when I was a little girl? I always liked going to the house. That's where everyone keeps their toys. I'd offer you something, but I'm all out of kwama eggs."

Sweet Mara. Even by the standards of other Telvanni nobles, this woman was completely round the twist. "I could get you some more if you make me Hortator," I suggested, privately wondering if she was even capable of signing the declaration.

"Hortator? It's a steel box. You keep things like bittergreen roots in it, keeps 'em fresh, with a little netch blood." She paused. "Or is that a hormador? Yes. Or spiders. When I was _much_ younger, we grew our own spiders..."

"Absolutely, Mistress Therana," I said, forcing a smile. "But now I need you to vote for me as Hortator. I'm the Nerevarine, you see."

Her eyes lit up. "Nerevarine? Is that a new play? I like plays."

"No, Mistress, not a play. _I'm_ the Nerevarine. Look, here's my special Nerevarine ring." I removed my gauntlet and slipped the Moon-and-Star off my finger. Using a simple sleight-of-hand trick I'd learned as a child, I pretended to pull it out of her ear.

Mistress Therana, one of the most powerful mages in all Vvardenfell, let out a squeal of delight and clapped her hands. "Goodness! Where did you learn how to do that? Can you do it again?"

I did it again. "Ooooh! Very pretty! Do it again, please?"

I did it again. And several more times, before asking yet again if she'd make me Hortator. "Oh, certainly," she said gaily. "I have a hormador around here somewhere, if you'll just – "

"Not a hormador, Mistress. _Hortator_." I was getting desperate now. "Look, if you just write your name here on this piece of paper, I'll show you the trick again."

"Oh. You want to _be_ a Hortator?" She glanced down at the paper. "Certainly. Go right ahead. Right after you do that thing again."

Grinding my teeth, I repeated the trick. "That's amazing! Oh, goody, goody..." She seized up a quill and scribbled the name 'Therana' in wobbly writing, down the side of the paper. "There! Now you can go and be a hormador if you want to."

"I'm deeply grateful to you, Mistress Therana," I told her, and quickly cast Divine Intervention before she could change her mind. How on Nirn could anyone stand to work for that woman? I found myself pitying her Khajiit slave even more than the one I'd seen earlier in Neloth's tower.

I didn't sleep too well that night – my head was filled with jumbled-up images of slaves and spiders and kwama eggs. Still, at least I'd managed to get most of the Telvanni councillors on side – and surprisingly easily, all things considered. I could only hope the Hlaalu would be as easy to persuade.

The next morning I returned to Vivec from Wolverine Hall. Most of the Hlaalu Councillors lived in or around the city, though I wasn't sure exactly where. Since I'd met Crassius Curio before, I decided it would be best to go to him first; at least he didn't work for the Camonna Tong.

I emerged from the plaza in the Foreign Quarter to find a fierce storm raging. Somehow it seemed to fit in with the general atmosphere of the city. People seemed tense and on edge, and I noticed that some of the Ordinators were looking at me _very_ hard. Or perhaps I was just overwrought and imagining things?

Anyway, I wasn't under any illusions that Crassius would be pleased to see me after what happened last time we met. I was fully prepared to have to do something humiliating to gain his support, but there were limits. If he asked me to 'polish his spear', he was going to get the business end of a glass longsword shoved up his backside.

Before entering Curio's mansion in the Hlaalu canton, I had to decide how best to approach him. Talking him round would be difficult after the vase-throwing incident, and I doubted he'd let me get near enough to cast a Charm spell. There was only one thing to do: break out the Telvanni Bug Musk.

I bought a flask from an alchemist, and splashed it over my wrists and face before entering Curio Manor. Unfortunately, one of Curio's retainers instantly recognised me as the woman who'd thrown a vase at his employer. "What do you want, outlander?" he said sharply.

I lowered my eyes, trying to look as meek as possible. "Please, _sera_, I've come to see Ser Curio on a matter of business. I'm very sorry about what happened last time I was here, and I _promise_ I'll behave myself this time."

"Hmph." The perfume was beginning to have its effect. "Well…"

"_Please_?" I begged, opening my eyes very wide. "It's _very_ important."

"I… oh, very well. Just give me your sword, please." I meekly handed it over. "I'll go and inform Ser Curio that you are here."

I found Curio writing at his bedroom table, looking as oily as ever. I'd been dreading the meeting, but to my amazement, he greeted me with a beaming smile. I had to give him credit for not bearing a grudge.

"Ah, Ada, my little sweetroll! You're back!" he cried, throwing down his quill. "I just knew you couldn't stay away for long. Have you come to pay old Uncle Crassius a visit?"

"Er, yes," I said, astonished at his friendliness. "It's nice to see you again… 'Uncle Crassius'. How are you getting on with your writing?"

"Wonderfully! _Crellius and Nerena _is already more than half-finished."

"Er… _Crellius and Nerena_?"

"The _play_, dumpling, the _play_!" he exclaimed. "Surely you haven't forgotten? The feuding Houses? The passionate, sweeping saga of forbidden love and false moustaches?"

"Ah, _that_ play." That had been my idea, hadn't it? I cringed to think what Crassius' twisted mind might have done to it. "It's coming along well, then?"

"See for yourself." He scooped up a messy pile of paper from the table and dropped it into my hands. I shuffled the pages together and began to read from the top sheet:

_Two Houses, both alike in dignity,  
In fair Balmora, where we lay our scene,  
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean._

"Crassius," I said slowly, "did you write this yourself?"

"What? Oh, certainly not. That silly nonsense was written by my young assistant." He snatched back the papers and flung them carelessly down on a chair. "I'll go through it later and trim out all that turgid prose… but ah, the greatest scenes will be mine! The custard-pie fight, for example. And the part where Crellius sneaks into Nerena's bedchamber by disguising himself as Listens-At-Doors, her naughty Argonian maidservant."

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful," I said, doing my best to sound sincere. "But actually, Crassius, that's not what I came to talk to you about."

"Isn't it, pudding? Then what can your favourite Uncle do for you today?"

I took a deep breath. "I need House Hlaalu to declare me their Hortator. You see, I believe that I'm the Nerevarine."

"_Really_, sweetcheeks?" His eyes lit up. "Why don't you take off all that lumpy armour, then come sit here on Uncle Crassius' lap and tell me _all_ about it."

_Ugh_. Gritting my teeth, I removed my cuirass, greaves and pauldrons and went to sit on Crassius' lap. He was soft and flabby – well, _most_ of him at least – and smelled strongly of perfume and hair oil. Judging by the look on his face when I sat down, I was a little heavier than he'd expected.

"What a fine strapping lass you are, sweetie," he grunted, trying to shift position a little. "Now, tell me all about these _fascinating_ prophecies that have got our Dunmer friends so excited."

I told him my story, doing my best to ignore the feel of – well, I'd rather not describe it, but I'm sure you can imagine. I couldn't help wondering if the original Nerevar had had to do anything like this in order to become Hortator. Something told me the answer was probably 'no'.

"So you want to be Hortator?" he said at last. "A pity. Orvas Dren does _not_ want you to be Hortator, and very few councillors would be willing to risk Ser Dren's disapproval. But your eloquent passion, your exquisite vulnerability, moves me to risk all – and defy him!"

"Oh good," I said, forcing myself to smile. "You'll support me, then?"

"Yes, sweetie, I will name you Hortator. But first I have something to ask of you..."

"Yes?"

He pulled me a little closer and tilted my head back, leering down into my face. "Will you give me… a kiss?"

Oh gods. Well, I guess it could have been a lot worse.

"All right, Crassius," I said with a sigh. "As long as it stays between us, you understand. I wouldn't want the others to think I'm playing favourites."

As I closed my eyes, preferring not to see the expression on Crassius' face, he smacked his lips against mine and gave me a big, wet, sloppy kiss. With tongue. It was all I could do not to shudder.

"How tender and thoughtful!" he exclaimed, finally releasing me after what seemed like forever. "You've made me the happiest fellow in Vivec. And now, pumpkin, it's time for _your_ gift: In my formal capacity as Councillor of House Hlaalu, I give you my vote for the title of Hortator."

"Thank you very much, Uncle Crassius," I said, slipping off his lap. "Just one thing… please could you put it in writing? Not that I don't trust _you_, of course, but…"

"I quite understand, pumpkin." His eyes twinkled. "Perhaps we'll make a Hlaalu of you yet. Now, just you wait a minute and Uncle Crassius will write you the most _beautiful_ letter."

I put my armour back on while Crassius wrote his 'beautiful letter'. As before, I made sure to read the declaration once he'd finished it. I'd have preferred him not to refer to me as 'this sweet little dumpling, Ada Ventura', but otherwise I couldn't see any loopholes.

"Now just go and use your charms on the other Hlaalu councillors. I'm sure you can get them to give you anything your precious little heart desires." He winked at me. "And don't forget to come back here when you have all the votes, sugar-plum. I have a nice little present all ready and waiting."

I was in such a hurry to get out of there that I forgot to ask him where the other Councillors lived. However, asking around, I soon found out that one of them – Yngling Half-Troll – lived in a manor in the St. Olms canton. His colleague Dram Bero was apparently in hiding for fear of assassins, but people seemed to think he was somewhere in St. Olms as well.

I took a gondola to St. Olms and found Yngling Half-Troll in the appropriately named Yngling Manor (I guess 'Half-Troll Manor' would have sounded a bit stupid). And I must say his name suited him. Try as I might, I couldn't work out how this totally charmless Nord had managed to get onto the Hlaalu council. I could only imagine that large amounts of money were involved.

"That's a touching story," he said, when I'd finished explaining what I wanted. "But if you don't have 2,000 drakes, you won't get my vote."

Well, at least he didn't beat around the bush. I showed him my letter of credit from the bank and wrote him a cheque for 2,000 septims – yet another large chunk of my money down the drain.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Ada Ventura," he said, shaking my hand. "And I'm a man of my word. You got my vote for the office of Hortator of House Hlaalu."

I got him to sign the declaration, and then asked him if he knew where Dram Bero lived. "Well, now," he sniggered. "That's a secret, that is. But since you're so free with your gold… I hear there's a 'haunted mansion' right here in the St. Olms Plaza. Maybe you should try poking around a bit."

Making a mental note never to tell Yngling any of my own secrets, I thanked him and went out to look for the 'haunted mansion'. It was just across the plaza – so easily found that if this was where Dram Bero lived, I wondered how he could possibly have kept it secret for so long.

I found out as soon as I stepped through the door. The place was creepy as hell, dark and gloomy and draped in cobwebs, echoing with the whispers of long-dead spirits. If I hadn't had protective clothing and a good enchanted weapon, I'd have thought twice about going in there myself. I nearly jumped out of my skin when a ghost appeared out of nowhere, right in front of my face – luckily it went down with a single blow from my frostsword.

But I wasn't going to be put off my search by one measly ghost and a few spiders' webs. At the bottom of a narrow staircase I discovered a locked door which was free of dust and cobwebs, indicating that it had been used recently. The lock was too tough to pick, but a spell did the trick, and moments later I found myself in a well-lit, richly furnished apartment.

I found Dram Bero in one of the bedrooms, along with a female bodyguard. "So you have found me," he said, as soon as I entered. "I take precautions to ensure that I am not found easily... I see I will have to take more in future. But what can I do for you?"

As usual, it took quite a bit of time to explain exactly what I wanted. I was beginning to wish I'd eaten before coming to the manor. Still, at least Bero seemed sympathetic.

"You have found me," he said eventually, "and that means you are resourceful. Yes, I will vote for you as Hortator. But my vote alone means nothing."

"No?"

"You still need the votes of the last two Councillors, Nevena Ules and Velanda Omani. They are Orvas Dren's creatures, and they will do nothing without his approval."

Damn. It seemed Athyn Sarethi had been right about that. "Where can I find Orvas Dren?" I asked. "And the other two, for that matter?"

He showed me the locations on my map. All three of them lived on separate estates outside of Vivec, dotted around the Ascadian Isles. I'd have to fly there if I wanted to have any chance of getting back before sunset.

Following my midday meal, I teleported to the High Fane and used Vivec's shrine yet again. Flying through a raging storm while covered in sheet metal was a wee bit nerve-racking, but I managed to reach Orvas Dren's plantation without being struck by lightning.

Now I must admit, I was surprised how easy I'd had it with the Hlaalu and Telvanni so far. With the exception of Gothren, they were practically falling over each other to grant me this incredible honour. "Wow, you found my house? Go ahead, be Hortator." "You're a woman? Be my guest!" Possibly they just assumed I'd end up dead in any case, but either way, I'd been extremely lucky.

I might have known it wouldn't last. I hadn't imagined it would be easy to sweet-talk the head of the Camonna Tong, but I never expected that things would go so wrong, so quickly. I met Dren in the topmost room of his lavish villa, where he'd gathered together all kinds of exotic armour and weaponry. For a moment I was surprised by how young and handsome he looked – in my mind I'd seen him as some kind of bloated stage villain, growing fat and greasy off his ill-gotten gains.

His face darkened as I walked up the stairs towards him, and I saw him glance at an ebony spear which leaned against the wall beside him. "Well?" he demanded. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"My name is Ada Ventura, _sera_, and I want to be the Hortator of House Hlaalu. I was told I should come to you if I wanted the votes of the other Councillors."

He snorted. "You show unusual wisdom for an outlander. But tell me, what's the title of Hortator worth to you? Why do you want to be Hortator?"

"To fight Dagoth Ur, of course," I said, taken aback.

"Oh? So that your precious Empire will be safe, Cyrodiil?" He took a step towards me, forcing me to retreat a little way down the stairs. "Tell me one thing. What have you Imperials ever done for us?"

I really hadn't been expecting a question like that. "Brought peace?" I suggested, saying the first thing that came to mind.

Without warning, Dren's face contorted with rage. "_Peace_?" he snarled. "Like the peace of the grave we've had since the Tribunal betrayed us and signed the Armistice? Dagoth Ur has made me a better offer. The Sixth House will rise again and crush the Empire, and those smug hypocrites in the Tribunal. And as for you, you will die with the rest of the foreign devils!"

Before I could recover from my surprise, he grabbed hold of the ebony spear and thrust the point viciously into my stomach. To this day I'm grateful that I'd chosen to use the levitation shrine to reach the villa. If I hadn't, I'd have tumbled backwards down the stairs and probably broken my neck. As it was, the force of the blow sent me flying backwards into the opposite wall.

Pure instinct took over. Recovering my breath, I grabbed my sword and launched myself through the air at the shocked-looking Dren. He made another wild thrust with his spear, but it glanced off my cuirass and smacked me into the ceiling. I lashed out at his unprotected head with my sword, driving the glass blade half-way through his skull.

The sound of Dren's body clattering to the ground brought his servants running to see what was going on. Bruised and shaken, I turned to see two male retainers staring at me with open-mouthed horror.

Something inside me snapped. "Well?" I snarled. "_Well_?" I flung down my shield and seized up Dren's spear with my left hand, jabbing it in their direction. "Think you're hard enough, do you? Anyone _else_ want to take on the Nerevarine?"

The men cowered back in undisguised terror. "N-no,_ s-sera_."

"Good." I hovered a little closer. "Now, if you've finished snivelling, go and have messages sent to Nevena Ules and Velanda Omani. Tell them I'll be paying them a visit within the next few hours, and that I want to be Hlaalu Hortator. Got it?"

The men nodded, bowed hastily and then ran for their lives. I stayed in Dren's villa to await their return, still fuming quietly. For the first time since becoming Nerevarine, I actually felt like someone powerful and dangerous. Maybe a bit of Nerevar Indoril's spirit was finally starting to show through.

My armour was covered in dried blood, but I didn't bother to clean it off before going to visit the Councillors. I wanted to make an impression – and it worked. When I arrived at Nevena Ules' manor approximately an hour later, the poor woman was practically wetting herself with terror.

"Oh. Yes. Yes," she stammered. "You want to be Hortator. Sure. I think that's a very good idea. You'll be a very _special_ Hortator. Is that okay?"

I nodded, trying to keep a straight face. "Do I need to say anything official?" she continued. "How about... 'In the name of House Hlaalu, I hereby say you are a Hortator. Of this house... House Hlaalu.'"

"That's fine," I said. "If you'll just sign _here_…" She took up the quill in a shaking hand and scrawled her name under Crassius' declaration. "Excellent. It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Sera Ules."

Velanda Omani was a little calmer, possibly because she'd had more time to digest the news. "Yes, Sera Ventura," she said, when I confronted her in her manor. "I've just heard of Orvas Dren's unfortunate… death. You have my vote as Hortator of House Hlaalu."

With all the votes collected, I flew back to Vivec to see Crassius, wondering what sort of a 'present' he had for me. I don't know how it happened, but it seemed he'd got wind of Orvas Dren's 'unfortunate death' as well. On the surface he was as cheery as ever, but I could see the signs of strain around his eyes.

"All the councillors agree?" he said. "Splendid! I'm so happy for you! And now, I have a little treat for you: a belt given to the Hortator of House Hlaalu. Just snug it around that supple little waist – " He broke off under the withering look I gave him. "Now, I know you have important things to do, but don't be a stranger. Don't neglect poor, lonely Uncle Crassius, your devoted admirer."

"Of course not," I said, taking the belt. "Thank you for all your help, Crassius. I'll be sure to come and see the play when it's finished."

And so it was that the first House to declare me Hortator was Hlaalu, not Redoran. Funny how these things turn out, isn't it?


	35. Chapter 35: The Perfect Crime

**Chapter 35: The Perfect Crime  
**

My 'bring it on' mood lasted throughout the evening. It was only once I'd cleaned myself up, eaten, and taken a nice long hot bath that panic finally set in. Well, not 'panic' as such – more a sudden realisation of "Oh dear Gods, I've just killed the head of the CAMONNA TONG." Not to mention following it up by very publicly declaring myself the Nerevarine.

Something told me there would be a lot more people out to kill me by the time I woke up the next morning. I spent the night in Ebonheart, hoping I'd be a bit safer from gangsters and religious zealots in Imperial territory. After that, though, I didn't have much choice but to go back to Ald'ruhn.

I still couldn't think how to deal with Gothren, but I hoped Athyn Sarethi would be willing to overlook that for the moment. Luckily I was right. "So the Hlaalu have already named you Hortator?" he asked in surprise. "I am impressed. I hope you did not have to do anything dishonourable to get the title."

"Well… not dishonourable _as such_," I said, trying not to shudder as I remembered Crassius' little 'favour'. "I had to kill Orvas Dren, though – he attacked me without warning. I'm sorry, Athyn."

He shook his head. "I fear you have made more enemies, but I suppose it cannot be helped. Besides, from what I knew of Dren, I believe that Vvardenfell will be better off without him." He glanced down at the Hlaalu declaration. "'This sweet little dumpling'…? Ah, I see: Crassius Curio. Well done, Ada."

At this point I had to make a rather embarrassing confession: I still didn't really know what a Hortator was supposed to _do_. I'd led a few very small operations during my time in the Guild, but my skills as a General were… well, 'untested' was the politest way of putting it. I had about as much knowledge of large-scale military strategy as I did of advanced Conjuration magic. The Hlaalu and Telvanni didn't seem to care, for whatever reason, but I had an uncomfortable feeling that the Redorans would.

But Athyn's answer surprised me. "A Hortator is not really a general," he told me, when I explained my concerns. "More of a chief hero. It's the Councils who plan and approve strategy."

"Really?"

He nodded. "A Hortator is a champion who leads by inspiration. He – or she, in this case – challenges opposing heroes in single combat." Well, I'd done that… sort of. "She goes on long, desperate quests." Check. "She goes alone into the citadels of the enemy." Uh-oh.

"Athyn," I said quietly. "Are you saying I'm going to have to confront Dagoth Ur _alone_?"

"That remains to be seen. Once you have the support of the Houses and tribes, and have convinced the Temple authorities that you are the Nerevarine, there will be time to discuss a strategy."

"But…" Frustration bubbled up inside me. "This all seems completely backwards. When all those Hlaalu and Telvanni agreed to make me Hortator – the ones who care at all, that is – they did it because they thought I had some sort of plan to defeat Dagoth Ur. What am I going to do when they realise I _don't_? What happens if the Temple finally agrees to recognise me as Nerevarine, and I have to admit that I don't have the faintest idea what to do next?"

"I know it must seem foolish, but you must understand: there is no chance that the Temple will even consider your claims until the prophecies are fulfilled. You are challenging centuries of deeply-held belief." He laid a hand on mine. "You must trust in the Gods to show you the way, as they have always done in the past."

I said nothing. "Ada," he went on, "I am not going to force you to be our Hortator if you don't wish to. If you prefer to give up your claim, that is your choice."

Easy for him to say, I thought. He wasn't the one who had Azura breathing down his neck. "I can't back out now, Athyn. I've already told half of Vvardenfell that I'm the Nerevarine."

"Then you wish me to declare you Hortator, in spite of your own doubts?"

I couldn't really see any way out. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"So be it. I owe you a personal debt, and would be glad to repay you… but truly, Ada, I believe in you. I think you have the strength to undertake this quest, and the courage and passion to see it through." If only _I_ could believe that. "I name you, Ada Ventura, Hero and Hortator of House Redoran. I am sure the other councillors will agree."

"What about Archmaster Venim?"

"Come back to me when you have convinced the other Councillors, and I will tell you a way that we might deal with Venim."

I decided to visit Miner Arobar first, just to get the worst over with. He looked even worse than he had when I'd last seen him, and even less pleased to see me. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot – in fact, I could almost have sworn that he'd been crying recently. What the heck was going on there?

"Why have you come back here, House Father?" he asked, before I had the chance to speak. "If this is about the Council, I have already told you – "

"It's not about that, _serjo_. Something else entirely, in fact."

His face relaxed ever so slightly. "Then I trust you will explain this reason for interrupting me yet again?"

I launched into my story, trying to keep it as short and direct as possible. Arobar listened, stroking his chin, and as I went on his expression became increasingly skeptical. "So," he said at last, "you come to tell me that you are the reincarnation of Indoril Nerevar."

"Yes."

"Azura spoke with you," he continued. "In a cave. And told you that because you are the reincarnation of Nerevar, you must become the Hortator of all three Great Houses. And that is why you are standing here now, telling me this story of the Tribunal stealing power from a god's heart with Dwemer tools. And that Dagoth Ur is not dead, but even now plots to conquer Morrowind with the power of this alleged… heart. Is that correct?"

Put like that, it did sound a little unlikely.

"That's correct," I said, rather apologetically. "Look, here's the Moon-and-Star ring I was telling you about."

He took my hand and peered at it closely. "You see, _sera_," he said, "my problem is that your story is a little… unbelievable. And, well, there are also these rumours about you being an Imperial spy…"

"What?" I gasped, outraged. "But that's ridiculous! That's – "

I paused. I _was_ an Imperial spy, wasn't I? So much had happened since I'd last seen Caius Cosades that I'd almost forgotten.

"Very well," he said with a sigh. "I will speak to Athyn Sarethi, your sponsor, and ask for his counsel. Please, wait here until I return."

I sat down on a bench in the hallway and waited, hoping that he really was going to speak with Sarethi and not just fetching guards to haul away the dangerous lunatic. I wouldn't entirely have blamed him, to be honest. Just two or three months ago, I'd have laughed my head off if someone came to me with a story like that.

It took quite a while for Arobar to get back, but whatever Athyn had told him seemed to have done the trick, as he looked deeply contrite. "I have spoken with Athyn Sarethi," he said, as I stood up to greet him. "He believes your story, and I have absolute faith in his judgement. Please accept my apologies for not accepting you at once… and for believing these rumours about you being a spy." He grasped my hand. "You have my vote. Tell the other councillors that I have given you my blessings."

Wow. I didn't know what Athyn had been saying to bring about this transformation, but I sure as hell owed him for this. "That's quite alright," I said graciously. "Er… while we're on the subject, I don't suppose…?"

But he was already shaking his head. "No, my friend. I am sorry, but I still cannot support you as a Councillor. Please don't ask me again." Oh, well.

I visited the other councillors one by one, and rattled off my story: Nerevarine cult, Dissident Priests, Lost Prophecies, Seven Trials, visions of Azura, Moon-and-Star. And each time it played out the same way: they listened to me with varying degrees of skepticism and disbelief, before going off to speak to Athyn Sarethi, who somehow managed to convince them that I was both sane and trustworthy. By the time I reached the last one, Hlaren Ramoran, I was tempted just to send him straight off to Athyn and get _him_ to tell the story.

At last, with everyone's vote in the bag except Venim's, I went back to Sarethi Manor. I hadn't asked any of the councillors to put their vows in writing – I knew the Redorans well enough by now to realise they would see this as a grave insult. But as Athyn had just spoken to them himself, he knew perfectly well that they'd all given their consent.

"Well done, my friend," he said, as soon as I entered his study. "And now we must turn to the matter of Bolvyn Venim. I fear he will never agree to name an outlander Hortator – in fact, I would not advise you even to try. But now that you have the full support of the council, he may agree to an honourable duel."

I sank down into a chair. "_Another_ duel, Athyn?"

"I know it isn't what either of us would wish, but I fear there is no other way. Venim was a great leader once, but he has grown tyrannical and unjust, and he loathes outlanders – and of course, he knows the part you played in freeing my son. Still, it is your decision."

Both of us were silent for quite a while. "I'll tell him my story first, and see what he says," I said at last. "You never know. Miracles might happen. Oh, by the way: do you know what's up with Miner Arobar? He refused me outright when I asked for his support on the Council."

"Miner did not even consider your case? This is troubling." He thought for a moment, frowning. "I believe from this and from his recent votes on the Council that he may be under Telvanni influence."

"Damn. Do you have any idea who might be influencing him?"

He shook his head. "If you are not too busy, perhaps you could go to Sadrith Mora and find out? I hate to ask this of you at such a time, but it is an urgent matter."

I'd have to go back there anyway in order to deal with Gothren, so I agreed to look into it. In the meantime, though, I had to prepare myself for my first meeting with the Archmaster.

As I was walking down the entrance hall, the door opened and Varvur Sarethi entered the room. "Varvur!" I exclaimed, briefly forgetting about Venim in my pleasure at seeing him again.

"Ada!" He stopped dead, hovering a few feet away from me. "I didn't realise you were in Ald'ruhn. Are you… well?"

"Fine, thanks. Where've you been this last week?"

"I have been on a mission in the Ashlands. Helping to destroy an illegal Telvanni base." He was still hanging back a bit, keeping his distance.

"Is everything all right, Varvur?" I asked.

"I – yes. Why?"

"Well, I'm just getting the impression that you're trying to avoid me," I said. "I don't have corprus any more, if that's the problem. Really."

He hurried forward immediately. "No! Forgive me, Ada. I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that, well…" He shook his head. "I still can't believe you are the Nerevarine."

Uh-oh. "Literally can't believe it, or just can't take it in?"

"The second." Phew. "I… suppose I did avoid you, for a little while. I just wasn't sure how to behave around you. I mean… you are the _Nerevarine_."

"You know I'm still the same person, right?" I said quietly. "Nothing's changed. I have a fancy ring now, that's all."

"I know." He laid his hands on the tops of my arms, as if trying to reassure himself. We stood there awkwardly for a few moments.

"Anyway, wish me luck," I said at last. "I'm about to go and ask Bolvyn Venim to declare me Redoran Hortator."

He frowned. "You are going to Venim Manor? You shouldn't go alone, Ada. What if he sets his guards on you? "

"What? There's no way he'd attack me in broad daylight for no reason." I paused. "…Would he?"

"I don't know, but I know I would not trust him." His grip on my arms tightened. "I'll come with you."

"Varvur, no! What if he tries to kidnap you again?"

He shook his head. "I've been cleared of Bralen's murder. He would not dare to arrest me now."

I wasn't willing to bet on that, to be honest. "Your father's not going to like this," I warned.

"I don't care," he said bluntly. "Am I a baby, to be ordered around by my father? He may be willing to let you face Venim alone, but I am not."

What could I say? I didn't really want to take Varvur with me, but I could hardly order him around like a child – even if I was technically his superior. This wasn't the time to pull rank. Besides, I was secretly rather grateful for the moral support.

We walked together to Venim Manor and entered the manor cautiously, making sure our weapons were clearly on display. Several of the guards and servants glared at us as we passed, but they didn't attack us… yet. Varvur, who'd been inside the manor many times before, led me on into Venim's private quarters.

I'd never met Bolvyn Venim before, and I was interested to see what kind of man could inspire such conflicting feelings in the other Councillors. Venim was tall and powerfully built, dressed in a full set of ebony armour. He was surrounded by a group of guards and assorted hangers-on, including several women who all looked far too young to be his wife. One of the perks of being Archmaster, I suppose, but not exactly what I'd have expected from the ultra-stuffy Redorans.

He looked up sharply as we approached, and his face darkened as he recognised Varvur Sarethi. He shot the young man a filthy glance – which, to Varvur's credit, he returned unflinchingly – and directed an almost equally unpleasant scowl at me. "What is it, outlander? Unless you have some important business to discuss, I suggest that you leave."

I bowed low, ignoring his sneering tone. Varvur followed suit. "I do have some rather important business, _serjo_. Might it be possible for us to talk in private?"

"Certainly not! If you have something to say, outlander, say it here – and be quick about it."

The guy was already pissing me off, but I was determined to keep my cool this time. "All right," I said. "I've come to ask you to support me as Redoran Hortator."

There was a ripple of incredulous laughter. Venim stared at me in disbelief. "_What_?"

"Hortator," I repeated. "It's a kind of war leader – "

"Of course I know what a Hortator is!" he thundered, making me jump. "Why in all Oblivion should I make you our Hortator?"

"Because I'm the Nerevarine."

Again the other Dunmer burst out laughing, but Bolvyn himself looked distinctly unamused. "Outlander, if this is some kind of joke – "

"It isn't a joke, Archmaster," I said quietly. "Won't you let me at least try to explain? I _am_ a member of your House."

He glowered at me for a couple of seconds, but said nothing, which I took as a cue to launch into my story. I tried my very best to make it sound convincing this time, but it clearly wasn't having the desired effect on Venim; the further I got, the angrier he looked. By the time I reached the part with Azura and the Moon-and-Star he looked downright furious, and when I finally removed my gauntlet to show him the ring, he practically exploded with wrath.

"Do you take me for a fool, outlander? Do you think I can be so easily won over? You are a fraud. Cunning, for an outlander, but a complete fraud." He was breathing heavily. "No, you will never be Hortator. I will not permit it!"

"Why not?"

"Why not? _Why not_?" He was spluttering with anger. "Apart from the fact that you are a fraud and a liar?"

"Suppose I could prove to you that I wasn't lying," I said. "Would there still be a reason not to declare me Hortator?"

"There are a thousand reasons!"

"Such as?"

"You are an outlander. A _Cyrodiil_!" He practically spat out the last word. "How could we trust you with the leadership of our House?"

"All the prophecies state that the Nerevarine will be an outlander," I said mildly. "Read them, if you don't believe me. And as for the House, I'll be a Councillor myself soon enough, so I don't see why that should be a problem."

He brushed this aside with an irritated gesture. "How old are you, outlander?"

"Twenty-three."

"_Twenty-three_?" He snorted derisively. "By the standards of our race you are an infant. We Dunmer have seen centuries of warfare, and now you ask us to declare you our champion?"

…Okay, so he _kind_ of had a point. "Well, we humans develop more quickly," I pointed out, standing my ground. "I've proven myself in your House, and I've persuaded the other Councillors to support me. I think that ought to count for something."

"What? I do not – "

"It is true, _serjo_," Varvur said quietly, speaking up for the first time. "She has their support."

Just for a moment, the older man looked slightly rattled. He rallied quickly, however. "Well, you may have played your tricks on the others, but they will not work on me. If you dare face me in a duel to the death – "

"There's no need for a duel, _serjo_."" I slipped the Moon-and-Star off my finger, and held it out to him. "There's a very simple way to prove I'm telling the truth. Here, try it on for yourself."

A sudden hush descended. Bolvyn's eyes seemed to bulge out as he stared at the ring lying there in my palm, his face rigid, not moving a muscle. The assembled Dunmer were watching with raised eyebrows, and as the seconds passed I saw some of them exchange meaningful glances.

"Well, Archmaster?" I said at last, hoping to goad him into taking the ring. "If you think this is all a trick, why not try it on? Are you afraid, perhaps?"

There was dead silence, and I realised I'd gone too far. Much too far. Bolvyn took a step towards me, his fists clenched and his face pale with fury. "You must be a coward to even suggest such a thing," he hissed. "Knights and gentlemen do not yield to _animals_. I despise you."

I felt the blood rush to my face. For a moment I was too angry and humiliated to speak, but Varvur sprang forward with a cry of rage. "How dare you! She is a House kinsman, and you have no right to say such things to her!" He reached instinctively for his scabbard, and I hastily caught his arm before he could do anything _really_ stupid.

Venim waved a hand dismissively, as if swatting a fly. "Run away, stupid child."

"Leave it, Varvur." I gave his arm a squeeze and then turned back to Venim, trying to keep my voice steady. "Well, Bolvyn, I'm a Knight of the Imperial Dragon. Is that knightly enough for you? I'm not a _gentleman_," I added, "but hey, I guess that makes two of us."

Another tense silence followed. Venim drew in breath with a sharp hiss. "This has gone far enough, outlander. If you are not a coward as well as a fraud, I will put a stop to your ambitions at the Arena in Vivec."

"Fine. Whatever." I heaved a sigh. "I hereby honourably challenge you to an honourable duel in the honourable traditions of House Redoran. Is that all right? Only you'll have to give me a week or so, 'cos I've got stuff to do first."

He laughed scornfully. "Very well, outlander. I will meet you in the Arena in a week's time."

I was still smarting from the 'animals' insult as we left the Venim manor. So, by the looks of it, was Varvur. "Thanks for sticking up for me back there," I said, with genuine gratitude. "Though I guess I kind of had it coming."

He shrugged. "You spoke the truth. He _was_ afraid, and everyone could see it!"

"Hmph." To tell the truth, I was already wondering if I might have bitten off more than I could chew. OK, so I'd faced tough opponents before, but the guy I'd just challenged to a duel to the death was the head of Morrowind's ancient warrior House. Not to mention bigger, stronger, better-armed and several centuries more experienced than I was.

Back in Sarethi Manor, I told Athyn what had happened. He greeted the news with a resigned shake of his head. "So be it. You must fight him, Ada."

"Great," I muttered. "Yet another pointless death." I just hoped it was going to be Venim's, not mine.

I had dinner with the Sarethis again that evening, but I couldn't eat very much – I was too busy worrying about the upcoming duel with Bolvyn. I'd got further than any of the other would-be Nerevarines, but was this going to be the test that finally proved too much for me? Was I doomed to spend the rest of eternity in the Cavern of the Incarnate, telling newcomers "I was not the Nerevarine, because I was stupid enough to challenge the Redoran Archmaster to a duel"?

"Maybe you could give me some advice about fighting Venim," I suggested hopefully to Athyn. "For instance, what sort of weapons does he prefer to use?"

Athyn chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of kwama egg before answering. "For duels, he generally uses a Daedric dai-katana."

I nearly dropped my fork. "Oh, crap!"

"Do not worry, _muthsera_," he said calmly. "I have faith in you." Well, at least one of us did.

I stayed at Buckmoth fort that night, and set off for Sadrith Mora the next morning. I wasn't sure who to talk to about Miner Arobar, so I started by asking around the Mages' Guild in Wolverine Hall, trying to be as discreet as possible. Luckily I found an ally in Uleni Heleran, the mage who'd told me all about Telvanni Mouths. It turned out that she was an outlander, and didn't get on very well with the Morrowind Dunmer – _especially_ the Telvanni.

"Well," she said cautiously, "I have heard rumours that Master Neloth is holding Nartise Arobar hostage."

"Nartise Arobar?"

"Miner Arobar's daughter. Just a rumour, of course," she added. "You didn't hear it from me."

Miner Arobar's _daughter_? Well, that would certainly explain how weirdly he was acting. What the hell was it with all these Councillors' children getting themselves kidnapped? It seemed to be practically a rite of passage for Redoran noble kids.

All of a sudden I remembered the woman I'd seen in a cage in Tel Naga – the one I'd assumed was a slave. Was that Nartise? If so, no wonder she'd looked at me so strangely – she must have recognised me as a fellow Redoran. And I'd just walked out and left her there…

It didn't take me too long to think of a plan to rescue her, but I decided it would be best to tackle Gothren first. I got the feeling I'd need to get out of town pretty quickly after messing up Neloth's little kidnap-and-blackmail scheme. Good thing I already had his vote…

Dealing with the Archmagister was something I'd quite happily have put off as long as possible. There was no getting round it: for the first time ever, I was going to have to cold-bloodedly murder a (relatively) innocent person. At least I'd given him fair warning, I suppose. But in any case, I still needed to come up with a way to do it.

I wasn't fool enough to think I could actually fight Gothren. A guy who'd survived for centuries in House Telvanni could probably kill me just by waggling his eyebrows. But my talk with Venim, useless though it had been in most respects, had given me the beginnings of an idea.

While visiting various apothecaries and alchemists, I'd sometimes seen small bottles of 'Fortify Luck' potion on their shelves. I'd never bought one before now – after all, how are you supposed to tell if they even work? Especially when your luck is as unpredictable as mine? But the scheme I had in mind was going to need a _lot_ of luck, so perhaps I ought to give them a try.

It wasn't too difficult to find Fortify Luck potions in Sadrith Mora, the magic-and-alchemy capital of Vvardenfell. Afterwards I made my way to Tel Aruhn – no flying this time, I preferred to stay out of Vivec right now – and used my Chameleon amulet to scout out Gothren's quarters without being seen. A plan was slowly forming, but I'd definitely need that Luck potion.

I went back to Wolverine Hall for the rest of the day and returned to Tel Aruhn after dark, wearing Caius' black clothes and making sure to avoid the guards. Using the Amulet of Shadows, I levitated up to Gothren's quarters without being seen and entered the tower. Gothren was sleeping, but his two Dremora guards were watching over him – and he probably had all sorts of magical protections as well. I ignored him, wanting to complete my task before the spell wore off.

Some of Gothren's clothing was laid out on a chair. I slipped off the Moon-and-Star and hid it in the folds of his robe, then crawled underneath one of the wardrobes, where there was just enough space for me to hide out of sight. Clutching my luck potion, I settled down for a long, uncomfortable night.

At long last I heard Gothren's footsteps approaching, and quickly gulped down the potion. I heard an exclamation of annoyance as he picked up the robe and the ring clattered to the floor. From underneath the wardrobe I could just see his hands scrabbling around to pick it up. Moments later there was a terrible scream, then a loud thump.

I dragged myself out from under the wardrobe. Gothren was lying stiff and motionless on the floor, his face frozen in an expression of utter horror. He was undoubtedly dead. The Dremora guards seemed to have vanished – they must have been released back into Oblivion by his death.

I bent down to remove the ring from Gothren's finger and slipped it back onto my own. As I straightened up, I heard footsteps rushing down the stairs, and a robed Telvanni woman entered the room. She spotted the body and raised her hands instinctively to cast a spell – then lowered them as she realised that probably wasn't a good idea.

"I didn't kill him," I said. It was true, sort of.

The woman stared at me for a few seconds. Finally she turned away and knelt down by Gothren's body, searching for marks that would indicate how he died. There weren't any.

"Well, outlander," she said at last, rather shakily. "I don't know how you did this, but I congratulate you. You would make a good Telvanni."

Well, I _assume_ she meant it as a compliment.

So I'd finally committed the crime I was once accused of, more than a year after being thrown in jail for it. Had that all been part of Azura's Grand Plan, I wondered? Had some unpleasant-but-harmless noble brat had to die just so that I could become Nerevarine? The thought made me feel slightly sick.

Luckily I didn't have time to brood on it for too long – there was a damsel-in-distress to be rescued. Maybe I should have brought along another Luck potion, because this plan didn't go quite as smoothly.

My idea was to enter Tel Naga under a Chameleon spell, slip past the guard into Nartise's cell, and hand her a Divine Intervention scroll without being seen. The slight flaw in the plan was that I had no way to warn her I was there. I hoped she'd have the sense to realise what was going on, but when I cautiously tapped her on the arm, she let out a sharp gasp.

The guard swung round. "What's going on?" His eyes darted back and forth before focussing on me, and I realised he'd seen through the Chameleon spell. Abandoning my original plan, I leapt forward and used the Star of the West spell to drop him just as he raised his weapon.

An armoured battlemage cast Dispel at me from the other side of the room, and suddenly I was fully visible again. _Damn_. Nartise flung herself to the floor with a shriek as the battlemage rushed at me, axe raised. The other mage in the room cast some kind of Shock spell at me, but I ducked behind the battlemage and it hit him right in the back.

Instantly the second mage cast another spell, but this time Marara's Ring reflected it right back at him. As the two of them collapsed to the ground in agony, I dragged the screaming Nartise to her feet and hauled her up the stairs, bundling her out through the door into the open air. "RUN!" I roared, shoving her in the direction of Wolverine Hall.

She didn't have to be told twice. We raced down the streets towards Wolverine Hall, past the astonished-looking Telvanni guards, as sounds of pursuit gathered behind us. They seemed to die down once we got close to the fort, but I wasn't taking any chances. We didn't even stop for breath until we reached the hall and I pulled Nartise into the Imperial shrine, slamming the door behind us.

"It's you!" she gasped, seeing my face for the first time. "I knew you'd come back for me! I saw your Redoran shield and – "

"Yes, fine, but save it for later! We have to get out of here!" I dragged her out of the shrine, snarling "Out of my way!" at a bewildered priest, and led her up to the Mages' Guild, where I yelled at the long-suffering Guild Guide Iniel to get us to Ald'ruhn. Luckily I'd had the sense to pay her in advance, and she was too flustered to do anything but obey.

Even when we reached Ald'ruhn, we kept running. We didn't stop until we were under Skar and at the door of Arobar Manor. By now poor Nartise was sobbing and trembling like a leaf, gulping for air as if she'd been half-drowned. She looked very young and frightened, and I suddenly felt very sorry for her.

"It's okay, sweetheart," I said gruffly, giving her a hug. "Go on, go to your father. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

She nodded tearfully and hurried off into the manor, while I headed back to Buckmoth to clean myself up. I didn't want to pester Miner Arobar until he'd had some time alone with his daughter, but that evening he sent me a message asking me to visit him in his manor. When I saw him again, the change was amazing: he looked like he'd just had a hundred-pound weight lifted off his shoulders.

"You have rescued my daughter." His voice was choked. "I must apologise for the way I treated you, _sera_. I will gladly offer my support to make you a Councilman. Please take this amulet as a sign of my support."

"Thank you," I said, wondering what I was going to do with yet another amulet. "But you really don't need to –" Hang on, was that an enchantment giving _near-total resistance to fire_? Hot damn.

"I mean, I don't deserve it," I finished hastily. "But it's really really kind of you and thankyousoverymuchCouncillor." Well, I _had_ saved his daughter. And frankly, with a duel against Bolvyn Venim coming up, I was going to need all the help I could get.


	36. Chapter 36: Make Love, Not War

**Chapter 36: Make Love, Not War**

By the time I woke up the next morning, the story of Nartise's kidnap and rescue had spread all over Ald'ruhn. The version that got back to me was a _bit_ exaggerated, I must say: apparently I'd carved up six or seven Telvanni battlemages, fought off a bunch of guards trying to prevent our escape, and burst through the gates of Wolverine Hall with a horde of enraged Telvanni hot on our heels. The Redorans were going to be dining out on this for _years_. As for the Telvanni… well, I got the feeling I wouldn't be welcome in their settlements for quite a while.

That was nothing, though, compared to the effect of Archmagister Gothren's death. People didn't nod politely any more as I passed, but lowered their eyes and scuttled out of the way, while children stopped playing and hurried inside their houses when they saw me coming. Everywhere I went, I kept hearing the hushed whispers: "_Nerevar… Incarnate… the Nerevarine…_"

One sweet little girl plucked up courage to approach me as I walked to Skar to buy provisions. "Are you the Nerevarine?" she asked shyly in Dunmeris.

Aww, I thought, aren't they adorable. "Yes, I am," I said, smiling kindly at her. (My Dunmeris didn't quite stretch to "well, technically yes, but it won't be officially confirmed until I've fulfilled the prophecies and been formally acknowledged by the Temple authorities.")

A gleeful smile spread over her face. "You're a liar. My mother says you're a heretic and you should be _burned_."

I was trying to think of a suitably snappy comeback – I didn't have the vocabulary for what I _really_ wanted to say – when the mother herself strode up to drag her kid away. As she left, she snarled something at me which I didn't quite catch, but no doubt she was telling me to keep my filthy heretical hands off her child.

Everything was getting a bit out of hand, to put it bluntly. Still, there were worse things than getting harassed by eight-year-old girls – at least no one was trying to have me arrested and thrown into the Ministry of Truth. Yet.

Since I seemed to be making Morrowind's cities too hot to hold me, maybe it was time to start work on my own stronghold again. To do that I had to go and see Percius Mercius about hiring some guards. It was a while since I'd visited the Guild, but so much had happened in that time that I'd almost forgotten about the bloodbath in Balmora and Vivec.

Percius' eyes lit up when he saw me. "Ah, Ada! I was wondering when you'd show up. Why didn't you come back here after dealing with Hard-Heart?"

"I was… busy."

"Ah yes," he said with a smile. "I've heard all about you declaring yourself the Nerevarine. You've certainly been causing quite a stir in these parts. Well, are you ready to take your place as Guildmaster?"

"Whaaaa…?" I gasped, clutching wildly at a pillar. "Oh, right… you're joking. Haha."

"I'm not joking. The job is yours, if you want it."

"You want _me_ to be the Guildmaster?"

He nodded. "I was the Master before Sjoring Hard-Heart, but I'm getting on a bit. Time I retired, really. Hrundi's happy in Sadrith Mora, and you're the only one left with his rank. So it's yours by default."

I gaped at him. "Percius, I can't possibly be Guildmaster! I'm already head of the Legion, for a start. Not to mention that I'm a bit busy right now trying to defeat an_ evil god_. How am I supposed to find time to run the Guild on top of all that?"

"Delegation?" he said with a wink.

I couldn't believe this was happening. First the Legion and now the Fighters' Guild? This was insane. But then everything that had happened to me recently was pretty insane, so perhaps it was best to humour him.

"All right," I said at last. "I accept your offer. And my first decision as Guildmaster is to appoint you, Percius Mercius, as Assistant… Deputy… Vice-Guildmaster in charge of… well, everything. You can take care of the Guild for me while I'm busy fighting the Sixth House."

"As you wish, Guildmaster." He bowed his head, but I saw a twinkle in his eyes. "Is there anything else you'd like me to do for you?"

Suddenly I remembered what I'd come for in the first place. "Actually, yes. I was wondering if you could help me find some guards for my Redoran stronghold."

Percius thought for a moment. "I do know a few men who can garrison your stronghold," he said at last, "and I'll even recommend them to you for free, but first I'll need a favour. I need you to get my friend, Frelene Acques, out of prison."

Good grief. There's always _something_, isn't there? "Why? What's she done?"

"Nothing, as far as I know, but the Hlaalu are holding her for questioning. She's being held in the prison under their Canton in Vivec."

Oh, great. Now I was supposed to supervise a prison break? He might say his friend was innocent, but for all I knew she was guilty as sin. "Suppose I were to _order_ you to hire me some guards, Percius?"

"I'm sorry, Guildmaster. I just can't concentrate on anything else, thinking of my poor, wrongfully-accused friend rotting in a Hlaalu jail." I could see him struggling to keep a straight face. Bastard.

"Oh, gods, all _right_," I hissed. "I'll try and get her out. But if everything goes pear-shaped, I'm going to tell them it was you who sent me."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he said blithely. "You should be a Khajiit, Ada; you always land on your feet. Anyway, didn't the Hlaalu make you their Hortator? You should be able to pull a few strings, surely."

The only string I wanted to pull right now was a nice tight knot around Percius Mercius' neck. I was supposed to be head of the Guild now, and yet somehow _I_ was still taking orders from _him_? Gods, I really had to start learning to say 'no' to people.

I set off for Vivec, wondering if I could somehow disguise myself or cover my face to avoid being jumped by Ordinators. I still had some of the make-up and hair-dye I'd used for the Caldera Mine job, so I ended up putting that on. I'd just have to hope it would be enough.

In the event, I managed to reach the Hlaalu canton without being recognised. Unfortunately that meant I couldn't do any of the 'string-pulling' Percius had talked about, so I ended up using the Amulet of Shadows to sneak into Frelene's jail.

The place wasn't exactly what you'd call 'top-security'. There was only one guard, who'd conveniently left a master key lying on a table in the corner. I grabbed it while he wasn't looking and slipped it through the bars to Frelene, noticing as I did that she was very pretty – gee, I wonder if _that_ could be why Percius wanted her out of there? Her eyes widened when she realised what was happening, and she gestured silently that she'd make her own way out once I'd left.

She still hadn't arrived when I got back to Percius, but luckily he believed my story and agreed to hire guards for me. That done, I had nothing to do for the rest of the week but lots and lots of sword-practice. I also went to Ebonheart to pick up Chrysamere and the Lord's Mail, figuring that they belonged to me now. I didn't like to be reminded of my duel with Varus Vantinius, but since there was no way I could use the Levitation trick again, I had to find _some_ way to even the odds.

The evening before the duel, I went to the practice rooms under Skar for a final workout. I was beating the heck out of a training dummy when I heard a faint noise behind me, and turned to see Varvur standing by the door.

"Hello, Varvur," I said in surprise. "I didn't hear you come in. Have you been here long?"

"Not so long. I didn't want to interrupt you." He took a hesitant step forward. "Do you have some time to talk?"

"Of course," I said, going to sit on one of the benches. "What about?"

"I heard how you rescued Nartise Arobar." He smiled, and then his smile faded slightly. "I… also heard about Gothren. And Orvas Dren."

I could see the slight strain in his face. "Are you afraid of me, Varvur?" I asked bluntly.

"Of you? No." He sat down beside me. "But… I am afraid _for_ you, perhaps. It seems to me that you are making many enemies."

"I know." I shrugged rather wearily. "Still, you can't make an omelette without carving up a few Telvanni. An old Imperial saying."

He shook his head, though there was a trace of a smile on his lips. "Do you always joke about serious things?"

"Always," I said with a sigh. "It's just a way to cope. What else am I supposed to do? Cry?"

"I don't know. But that is what I came to talk to you about." He leaned forward slightly. "I just wanted to say that I will always be here to help you if you need it. If you want a… a bodyguard, perhaps, to protect you from assassins. Or if anyone threatens you, come to me – or my father – and we'll make sure they don't harm you."

My heart cracked into little pieces. He was such a sweetheart… and the bodyguard thing wasn't a bad idea, actually. I might just take him up on it if the Ordinators started getting shirty. Not that I needed much of an excuse to spend more time around Varvur…

"Thank you, Varvur," I said, as soon as I could speak again. "I'm running out of ways to say this, but… I'm really, really grateful for everything you and your family have done for me. I just hope I don't end up letting you all down."

"But you won't. If what Azura has said is true, you _must_ be the one to defeat Dagoth Ur." I didn't have the heart to tell him about all the failed Incarnates. "Anyway, I must go now. I will leave you to practise."

Well, that settled it: I _had_ to win, or end up taking Varvur and Athyn down with me. That would have been true anyway, of course, but Varvur's offer really brought it home to me. I wondered how long his father would last on the Council if Bolvyn Venim won the duel. Something told me he'd probably be out within the month – if he even managed to survive that long.

I wondered why it seemed so much easier to fight for their sake than for the sake of all Morrowind. Perhaps it was just that the threat of Dagoth Ur still seemed so far-away and abstract. Okay, so he'd given me a few bad dreams and I'd seen the destruction he'd wreaked on the land, but to me he was still just some shadowy figure hiding inside a cave. Whereas the Sarethis were my friends – heck, almost family – and they'd risked everything to help me.

I slept surprisingly well that night – maybe I'd just tired myself out. When I woke up I felt strong and alert, but also rather nervous. I wasn't really hungry, but I forced myself to eat some breakfast at the Arena waistworks – no sense in collapsing for lack of energy half-way through the duel.

The fight was scheduled for ten o'clock. When the time came, I strapped myself into my armour and loaded myself up with as much enchanted jewellery as I could carry without falling over. Then I walked out into the lion's den.

When I stepped through the wooden door that led to the arena, I nearly had a heart attack. The place was absolutely _packed_ with people – half the population of Vvardenfell seemed have squeezed themselves into the stalls, eager to see the fight between the head of House Redoran and the outlander claiming to be the Nerevarine. A huge cheer went up as I entered the ring, and an even bigger one when Venim appeared a few moments later. I wondered if Athyn and Varvur were somewhere in that huge crowd, watching.

Venim stood at the other side of the arena, sword in hand, decked out in his ebony armour. I suppose you could have seen it as symbolic: me in my shining mail with my holy Paladin's Blade, battling the evil Black Knight for the future of Morrowind. Certainly it sounded a lot better than the reality: an out-of-her-depth young woman facing a deeply unpleasant but hardly evil opponent for the sake of a title she didn't even want or – let's face it – deserve.

"_Azura_?" I prayed silently, as we waited for the signal to begin the duel. "_If you're watching this, I could really use your help right now._" And someone must have been listening, because at that moment my nervousness vanished and I felt a sudden surge of confidence. I was ready to take on anything, even Venim.

The duel began. As Venim rushed towards me with sword drawn, I stayed calm and quickly cast my protective enchantments. They wouldn't last very long, so I'd have to try and get this over with quickly.

You couldn't really do any fancy swordplay with those massive blades, so for the most part we just circled each other and took the occasional swing, hoping to catch each other off guard. I could see the scorn in Venim's eyes as he spotted my magical shields.

"Afraid to face me without enchantments, outlander?" he taunted me.

"Afraid to face me without Daedric weapons, Bolvyn?" I jeered back.

I have to admit, though, he was good. Really good. Even after days of practice, it was still an effort for me to fight with Chrysamere, while Venim swung his own dai-katana like he'd been born to it. I wouldn't have had the ghost of a chance against him without all my magical gear.

It wasn't long before I realised this was pointless. All Venim had to do was wait for me to tire myself out, then move in for the kill. If I could just get close enough to cast my Star of the West spell, I might have a chance – but I couldn't risk taking a hand off my sword, unless I found some way to trick him. _Come on, Ada. Imperials are supposed to be _good_ at cheating._

I pretended to stumble, letting Venim's sword strike me in the arm. While the Shield spell absorbed most of the force of the blow, it was enough to jar the sword out of my left hand. Venim's eyes gleamed with triumph, he relaxed for just a moment – and before he could recover from the swing, I stepped forward and cast the spell.

What happened next was completely unexpected. Instead of collapsing or even stumbling, Venim lowered his sword and took a step backwards. His eyes were fixed on me as if in a trance. Oh shit, I'd cast the _wrong spell_!

Venim stared at me in bewilderment as the powerful Charm spell did its work. It was clear that he'd completely forgotten why he was trying to kill me. I couldn't afford to waste this chance – any moment now, he'd realise what had happened and get _really_ angry.

"Sorry, Bolvyn," I whispered, raising Chrysamere in both hands, "but I have to kill you now." Before he could react, I swung the huge blade straight at his neck, severing his head clean from his body.

The crowd went _wild_. I turned away as Venim's body toppled to the ground, feeling a bit sick. Poor guy, even he didn't deserve such a humiliating death.

By the time I got back to the waistworks, Varvur Sarethi was there to greet me. "What happened?" he gasped, pulling me into a brief, tight hug. "When he struck your arm, I thought… What kind of spell did you cast on him?"

"Uhm… Illusion," I mumbled, deliberately avoiding the actual question. "Oh look, here come the others."

The Redoran councillors had entered from the back of the room, along with their wives and families. I noticed that Fathasa Llethri looked pale and tight-lipped, while Garisa's face held a look of rather grim satisfaction. Walking alongside them was a woman I didn't recognise, dressed in some of the most exquisite clothes I had ever seen. As they drew closer I realised that she was sobbing bitterly.

"Who's that?" I whispered to Varvur.

He coughed awkwardly. "That is Dilvene Venim, Bolvyn's… widow."

I stared at him in horror. "He had a _wife_? No one told me he had a wife!"

At that moment, Dilvene's glance fell on me, and her eyes blazed with sudden fury. "Traitors. Murderers! This is all _your_ fault!"

Miner Arobar laid a hand on her arm, but she brushed him aside. "You plotted against him! All of you! What shall I do, now he is dead? All those years I stood by him, pretending to be blind to all his – his – " She broke off, and turned streaming eyes towards Fathasa Llethri. "Did you think I didn't _know_, Fathasa?"

Fathasa's face turned deep purple. Her husband looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. For a moment there was total silence, and then suddenly everyone began talking – or rather, yelling – at once.

I stared in disbelief at the bickering group. This was getting out of hand. Any minute now, other people were going to turn up and see the entire Redoran council squabbling like a bunch of ten-year-olds.

"SHUT UP!" I roared. A circle of shocked faces turned towards me. I glared back at them. "If we must discuss who's been sleeping with who, could we _please_ do it a little more quietly? I think there's a bunch of Ashlanders out in Dagon Fel somewhere who haven't heard about it yet."

There was another silence, broken when Dilvene burst into tears again. Brara Morvayn put an arm around her and began to speak to her in a low voice. As the Councillors clustered around her, Athyn drew me aside to join him and the other Sarethis.

"Will she be all right?" I asked awkwardly.

Athyn nodded. "I believe so. She will grieve for him, of course, but I hope it will not be for too long. Poor Dilvene, he treated her almost as badly as he treated everyone else."

I said nothing. Varvur gave my hand a quick squeeze. As the four of us began to move towards the exit, he hung back to walk beside me.

"What will you do now?" he asked, after a few moments of silence.

I thought for a while. "I think I need a bath," I said at last.

"And after that?"

I thought again. "A drink would be nice."

"Shall I meet you in the Rat in the Pot?"

We spent a long time in the tavern, buying each other drinks and talking about everything _except_ the duel that had just taken place. All I really wanted to drink myself into oblivion – almost literally – but luckily I had the sense to stop before I reached the 'clinging onto the floor' stage. Getting falling-down drunk at a time like this probably wasn't the best idea.

Even so, both of us were rather the worse for wear by the time we left the tavern. Everything seemed incredibly funny all of a sudden. We made our way down the street, leaning against each other and giggling helplessly at each other's jokes. It was a very cold night, but I hardly even noticed – all I could think was how nice it was to have Varvur's arm around me.

Near to the Fighters' Guild, he suddenly stopped walking. "What's that? Over there, in that alleyway."

I peered into the gloom, but it was too dark to make anything out. "I can't see anything."

"Let's take a closer look." He tugged me insistently in the direction of the alley. I followed, vaguely wondering what had come over him.

There was nothing in the alley except a few crates and empty baskets. " 'S nothing here," I mumbled. "What did – oh." Before I realised what was happening, he had pushed me up against the curved wall of a hut, pressing his lips against mine. His red eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.

_Finally_, I thought. I was just about to slip my arms around him when he suddenly tore his lips away from mine, breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry." His voice was even huskier than usual. "I'm so sorry. I know it is disrespectful, but I couldn't help it. You are so beautiful..."

I looked at him in confusion. "I'm not beautiful."

"Well," he said, "I don't know what Imperials consider beautiful. But _I_ think you are."

After that, was it really any surprise that we ended up kissing again? I was drunk, so I don't really remember all that much about it, but I do know that it felt pretty good. Certainly a hell of a lot nicer than being kissed by Crassius Curio.

After what felt like an age, Varvur pushed back the heavy cloak I was wearing and slid his hands under my shirt. Somewhere inside my head, a little voice was screaming at me that this was a bad idea, but it was drowned out by a whole chorus of voices saying that this felt rather nice, actually.

"Hey, kids! Get a room!" The Nordic-sounding voice came from somewhere near the Fighters' Guild. We froze, but whoever it was passed by, chuckling.

"Maybe we should, uh, get a room," I mumbled. "If you want to go on with this, I mean?"

"Yes. Let's go." He grasped me by the hand and we hurried back towards the Rat in the Pot.

By the time we reached the tavern, we could hardly keep our hands off each other. The only person left in the taproom was the owner Lirielle Stoine, cleaning up. She looked up in amusement as Varvur and I stumbled in, locked in each other's arms. "I take it you two want a room?"

"That would be good," I agreed, fumbling in my pouch for some coins.

Lirielle took the money and led us down to a small, rather dingy bedroom. Just before she left, she slipped a couple of small potion bottles into my hands. "Thought you might need these," she said with a wink.

It took me a couple of seconds to realise what they were, but when I did, I was suddenly very grateful to her. In all the excitement I'd forgotten that the last thing I needed right now was a little sweetroll in the oven …

My memory of the rest of that night is very patchy, so I can't describe it in detail – and even if I could, the Temple would probably ban it. Let's just say that in our own way, Varvur and I did our bit for improved Imperial-Dunmer relations. Who'd have thought international diplomacy could be so much fun?

I woke up the next morning in Varvur's arms, half-dressed, with a mild headache. I must admit that my first thought was, "Oh gods, who have I slept with _this_ time?" Then I remembered.

Varvur was still lying half on top of me, sound asleep – well, that explained why I couldn't feel the right half of my body. "Hello, sleepyhead," I whispered. When that didn't wake him up, I poked him gently in the ribs.

Varvur's eyes flickered open, rested on me for a couple of seconds, and then widened with shock. He sat bolt upright. "Ada!" he gasped, his voice hoarse. "Oh, _b'vek_! Ada, I'm sorry – I shouldn't have…"

I felt like I'd been slapped in the face. He could hardly have insulted me more if he'd left money on the bedside table. I wrenched myself out of his grasp, ignoring the fierce pins-and-needles in my right side.

"Oh, I get it," I snarled. "When you told me all that crap about how beautiful I am, you really meant 'at two in the morning when I'm totally off my face on mazte'. Well, nice knowing you too, Varvur."

I flung my cloak around my shoulders and made for the door, but he grabbed hold of me. "Wait! What are you talking about? I do think you're beautiful, I just thought – " He broke off. "You mean, you don't _mind_ that I…? You enjoyed it?"

"What?" My head was starting to throb. Maybe I was just hung over, but this conversation wasn't making any sense to me. "Of course I enjoyed it. At least – " I screwed up my eyes for a moment – "I _think_ I did. Didn't you?"

"I think so too." His face was slightly flushed. "But… I don't really remember too well."

For a moment we just stared at each other, until suddenly the ridiculousness of the situation hit us both and we burst out laughing. Varvur pushed me back onto the bed and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him down on top of me.

"What took you so _long_?" I mumbled, in between kisses.

"I wanted to do this before, but I was afraid you wouldn't like it. You told me I was a good _friend_." He exhaled slowly. "And you said that you liked… barbarians…"

I let out a snort of laughter. "Were you thinking of dragging me by my hair to a cave somewhere?"

"Not your beautiful hair," he murmured, running his hands through my tangled braids. "But… yes, something like that."

I groped for the spare potion Lirielle had given me, swallowed it down, and settled back against the pillows. "So go ahead. Do it now."

"There's no cave."

"Use your imagination."

It was mid-morning by the time we were finally ready to leave. I waited another hour or so before going to see Athyn, not wanting to raise suspicion by arriving too soon after Varvur. I really wished I'd got him to declare me Hortator last night, before we left for Ald'ruhn. It was supposed to be a solemn occasion, but all I could think about was how he'd react if he found out I'd spent last night in bed with his son.

But I must have done a good job of hiding my embarrassment, because he didn't seem to notice anything. He simply made a short speech pronouncing me Hortator, and sealed the deal by giving me – you guessed it – another piece of enchanted jewellery. This time it was a ring with health-giving properties.

"I also have a sealed package for you," he said, handing it to me. "I do not know what it contains, but I received it from a contact in the highest ranks of the Temple. My guess is that it has something to do with their position on your claim to fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies. Oh… and here is a copy of a recent public notice issued by the Watch. I believe you should see it."

I read the note, and my heart almost stopped. It read like this:

_WELL-BELOVED PEOPLE OF MORROWIND!_

_TAKE HEED!_

_TAKE WARNING!_

_The outlaw named Ada Ventura, stated trade of Mercenary, lately called 'Incarnate' and 'Nerevarine', now is shown to the investigating Ordinators and Magistrates of this district to be an agent in the pay of the Imperial Intelligence Service. This outlaw's claims are false. The prophecies this outlaw cites are discredited. The dishonest character and base purposes of the outlaw in perpetrating this hoax are now made clear to all observers. Ada Ventura is sought for various crimes by Ordinators and town guards. Report all encounters with this outlaw to the proper authorities. If you see this outlaw in public, give the alarm._

_Published by the authority of the Temple, the Order of the Watch, Magistrates of Vvardenfell District, under the signature and authority of Grandmaster Berel Sala, Captain of the Watch. Hear and Heed!_

I felt the blood drain from my face as I looked up at Athyn. The game was well and truly up. "Look," I began desperately, "I can explain – "

"No need for explanations. I only wish to give you warning."

"But – "

He held up a hand. "I am satisfied of your sincerity," he said quietly, "but I warn you that others may not be so understanding. That is all."

I stared at him in utter confusion. Did he believe I was a spy, or not? And if so, how could he possibly still trust me? He was either the world's best judge of character, or the world's worst.

"Thanks," I said at last. "So, er… who's going to be the Archmaster now?"

"We haven't decided yet. The Councillors will rule the House collectively until a decision is made."

"I bet I can guess, _Athyn_," I said meaningfully. He only smiled.

I was so deep in thought as I left Athyn's study that I didn't notice Varvur approaching until I practically bumped into him. "Has he given you the ring?" he asked. "You are our Hortator now?"

I nodded dazedly. "What's the matter?" he asked, seeing the expression on my face.

Wordlessly I handed him the public notice. As he read it, his face turned pale with anger, and he muttered something in Dunmeris. I watched in disbelief as he ripped the paper to shreds and scattered them over the floor.

"That is how we treat slanders against our House," he said coolly, and turned back to me. "Don't listen to them, Ada. I know it must be hard for you, to hear their lies. But no one will dare lay a hand on you now that you are Hortator."

I managed to force a smile, but I felt more like crying. The sense of guilt was almost physically painful. Gods, I was going to murder bloody Caius Cosades if I ever saw him again. Even hundreds of miles away in Cyrodiil, he was still managing to screw up my life.

"I have to go," I said at last. "I need to get Master Aryon to declare me Telvanni Hortator, and after that I'll have to visit a few more Ashlander camps. When I get back, we can… talk about things. OK?"

He nodded reluctantly. I wanted to invite him to come with me, but I think we both realised that would be a really bad idea right now. Instead we had to make do with a quick clasp of hands, which was all we dared to do with Varvur's family and servants around.

More secrets, I thought with a sigh. More lies.

I didn't even remember to look at the sealed package until several hours later. It was a hastily scribbled note, signed by 'Dileno Lloran, assistant to the Archcanon', and began like this:

_To the Outlander lately proclaiming her identity as the Nerevarine, to be delivered with haste –_

_The assertions made being in direct contradiction of the doctrine of the Tribunal, namely, that you are the Nerevarine, the reincarnation of the Sainted Lord Nerevar, are, in addition to being against Temple teaching, incredible and implausible in the extreme._

_The revelations made by the Inquisition, namely, that you yourself are in fact an agent of the Imperial Intelligence Service, otherwise known as the Order of Blades, lately made with substantial evidence by the Lord High Archordinator, Berel Sala, further calls into question the validity of and motivations behind your claims._

_However, as incredible as your claims are, as much as they are in direct contradiction of the teachings of the Temple, and tainted as they are by the inferences to be made upon your close association with the covert policies and interests of the Emperor, the interests of the Temple and its leadership, and in particular, the interests of His Immortal Lordship, Vivec, are best served by a close and personal examinations of the claims being made, and close and personal examinations of the motivations and character of the claimant._

It went on like that for nearly two pages. I've never seen such a piece of mealy-mouthed tripe in all my life. Basically, what it was saying was this: "You are definitely not the Nerevarine. Absolutely not. But in the incredibly unlikely event that you _are_ the Nerevarine (which you're not) and you manage to fulfil the prophecies (which you won't), the Archcanon would like to meet you in person – secretly, of course." I'm surprised it didn't finish up with "This message will self-destruct in 60 seconds."

Well, there'd be time to worry about that once I finished the Fifth Trial. For now I just needed to get Aryon to pronounce me Hortator, then sort out the remaining Ashlander tribes. And try not to think too much about Varvur in the meantime.


	37. Chapter 37: Here Comes The Bride

A/N: Sorry for the very long delay on this one! Real Life calling, I'm afraid.

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* * *

Chapter 37: Here Comes The Bride**

Now that I'd been 'outed' as a spy and pretender throughout civilised Vvardenfell, I wanted to head out to the Ashlander camps as soon as possible. The only thing I did before leaving was quickly return to Ebonheart, using a Divine Intervention enchantment, to return Chrysamere and the Lord's Mail.

Duke Vedam Dren had been away when I came for the artifacts on the previous day, but he was back now. I cringed when I saw him, remembering that I'd killed his brother Orvas only a couple of weeks ago. For a moment I was afraid he might try to arrest me – then I remembered that I was head of the Imperial Legion, so all his Legion guards actually reported to me. Phew.

The Duke stood up from his chair as I entered the room. For a moment we just looked at each other. "I'm sorry about your brother, _serjo_," I said at last. "I didn't set out to kill him, but he never gave me a chance."

He shrugged, his face expressionless. "I am saddened at his death, but perhaps it was necessary."

Unsure what else to say, I laid down the artifacts in their usual place and turned to leave. Just as I reached the door, I heard the Duke's voice behind me. "Sera Ventura? Could I offer you a word of advice?"

I turned back towards him, a little surprised. "I'm told you claim to be the Incarnate," he went on. "Nerevar reborn, according to legend. My father used to say, 'When you hear something unbelievable, don't believe it.' From what I hear, your story is remarkable enough without relying on ancient prophecies. I suggest you stand upon your reputation, and leave superstitions to the prophets and holy men."

"Thank you for your advice, your Grace," I said, keeping my expression carefully neutral. He just sighed.

Well, there was one person who obviously wasn't convinced yet. I guess it could have been worse, though – if he'd been really angry over his brother's death, he could have made life very difficult for me. Clearly there hadn't been any love lost between the two of them.

After leaving the Duke's chambers I cast a Recall spell to take me straight to Tel Vos, not wanting to risk going back to the Vivec Temple. I'd planned to use my Levitation Pants to go up and visit Aryon, but I suddenly remembered that I'd promised his guard captain to ask the Zainab Ashlanders about trade goods. Looking at my map, I saw that the Zainab camp was some way south-west of Tel Vos. I could probably walk there by the next morning, as long as I didn't get jumped by too many blighted animals along the way.

The walk to the camp was surprisingly pleasant. The Grazelands were nice to look at, even if most of the trees were bare this time of year, and they weren't quite as cold as the ashy deserts to the west. I found a small cave to spend the night in – miraculously free of bandits for once – and arrived at the camp a short while after dawn the next morning.

From the moment I arrived, I could see that the Zainab were doing a lot better than the other Ashlanders. Their camp was bigger than any of the others, and some of the structures they'd built suggested they'd been there a long time. The people looked well-fed and prosperous – at least, as much as people who live in guar-hide tents can be prosperous. They were friendlier, too – I even got a couple of smiles as I walked through the camp, and some of the children waved and giggled.

As I approached the gulakhans' tents, a man strode up to me with a broad smile on his face. "Ho, look, an outlander! Are you lost, poor thing? Did the big, bad beasts bite you, so you need a healer? Or do you need our trader, so he can take your gold and give you things we would throw away or give to our guar?"

There was laughter from the other men standing nearby. "None of those things, as it happens," I said, a bit taken aback. "I may need to speak to your trader at some point, but I really came here to see your ashkhan. It's about the Nerevarine proph-"

"Ah, so _you_ are the outlander saying she is the Nerevarine!" he exclaimed. Everyone was looking at me curiously now. "Yes, you must talk to Ashkhan Kaushad. The ashkhan is very curious about this outlander who claims to be the Nerevarine."

He practically dragged me towards the Ashkhan's yurt. I hadn't expected it to be this easy, not after the Urshilaku and Ahemmusa. With luck, maybe this guy would name me Nerevarine _without_ making me do some idiotic task for him first.

Ha. As if. I should have guessed how it would be as soon as I met Kaushad, and saw his obvious amusement when I was introduced as the would-be Nerevarine.

"We have heard the rumours," he said, nodding slowly. "We know you to be the outlander who claims to fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies. But teach us, 'Ada Ventura'… how could an outlander be the Nerevarine?"

I told him. He sat back and listened as I recited the story which I now knew almost off by heart, showing him all my proofs. And when I'd finished, he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"Excuse me," he said, wiping his eyes. "Do not think me rude. But seriously. Do you believe this story yourself? I mean no offence, but you must admit, you are an outlander, and completely ignorant of our ways. How could you ever be our war leader? What sensible ashkhan would ever choose you to lead the tribes?"

His reaction left me genuinely speechless. I'd got so used to thinking of the Ashlanders as credulous and superstitious that I hadn't for a moment expected anything like this. But Kaushad had reacted exactly as I would, if anyone came to me with that story – exactly as _anyone_ with a grain of common sense would have done. Annoying as it was, I couldn't help feeling a whole lot of respect for him.

"Perhaps I could perform some sort of task for you?" I asked. "To prove my worth?"

Kaushad thought for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. A vampire named Calvario has taken refuge in nearby Nerano Ancestral Tomb. If you are as worthy as you say you are, it should be a small matter for you to dispose of this vampire." He smiled. "There, you have your task. Now perhaps you would leave me in peace for a bit?"

Like Sul-Matuul before him, it was obvious that he didn't actually expect me to complete the task he'd given me. Well, I'd enjoy proving him wrong.

Outside, I got directions to the cave from the man I'd first spoken to, and asked him if I could speak to the trader. "Our trader Ashur-Dan has his yurt just here," he said, pointing. "Why do you want to see him, outlander?"

When I told him the Telvanni had sent me to ask about trade goods, he laughed scornfully. "Trade goods we have in plenty. What, does the outlander think we are savages, because we do not have the things the settled people have? Big buildings, heavy furniture? We have no use for this trash. And do we need to dress ourselves in foolish clothes and stand about with fancy weapons to feel like men? Hah."

I was tempted to ask why they even had a trader if that was how they felt. I refused to believe the guy made a living from ripping off the occasional lost traveller. But when I went to see Ashur-Dan himself, he told me pretty much the same thing, just a bit more politely.

"There are many fine things that might be had from the settled peopled," he said. "But what use have the Zainab for these things? I am a trader, and would be glad to make a profit. But I can think of nothing wanted that we do not already have."

None of this was very encouraging, but I decided to ask around a bit more before giving up altogether. Near the edge of the camp, I came across a group of women washing clothes in a stream. I introduced myself and asked whether there was anything they'd be willing to trade for.

One of the women laughed. "You come to us, outlander? You ask _us_ about the trade goods wanted among the Zainab? We are just the women. No one listens to us."

"Well, _I'm_ listening," I pointed out.

The women had a quick discussion amongst themselves in their own language. Finally the first woman nodded. "We Zainab make everything we need. We do not need things from outsiders. But…."

"But?"

"Our men get common diseases and blight diseases when they go out hunting or tending the herds," she said. "They are sometimes gone for long times, and cannot return all the way back to camp to be cured by the wise women. The settled people make the bottled magics that cure common disease and blight disease, but the Zainab are often in short supply of these things. These magics might be the trade goods we would want."

Magic potions? Well, that ought to be a nice little earner for the Telvanni – if they could think of anything they wanted in return. But how typical of a bunch of men to put up with nasty diseases for days, rather than admit they needed help...

I wrote down the suggestion in my journal and then set off for Nerano Ancestral Tomb. It was so far away from the camp that it was easier just to teleport back to Vos and walk from there. I'd have to make the entire journey back to the camp again when I was finished.

When I reached the tomb, I stopped outside to make sure I had everything I needed. I'd learned a lot from the last vampire I fought, and I didn't want to get caught out again this time. After checking I had the right scrolls, and loading myself up with magically-protective gear, I cast the Amulet of Shadows enchantment and entered the tomb.

The outer rooms were full of undead creatures and littered with dead bodies, probably other adventurers who'd tangled with Calvario. I found the vampire himself in an inner chamber of the tomb, and quickly cast two scrolls at him in succession: a fire damage spell and a 'Scroll of Baleful Suffering', designed to blind him, demoralise him and disintegrate any weapons he might be carrying. Then I hit him with the Sound enchantment from the Ahemmusa Madstone. (I really wasn't taking any chances this time.)

The spells left Calvario reeling and staggering, and I seized the opportunity to run up and stab him through the heart. I scooped up the vampire dust he left behind, and Recalled to Tel Vos to begin the journey back to the Zainab camp.

I arrived back a short while before sunset, tired and grubby but triumphant. Kaushad's expression when I strolled into his yurt was priceless. I swept a low bow, trying to keep a straight face, and handed him the bag of vampire dust.

"Your task is complete, great Ashkhan," I said solemnly. "Calvario is dead."

Kaushad opened up the bag and eyed the dust suspiciously. "Well," he said, with a slight cough. "So you killed the vampire? Ahem. Well. I will be happy to acknowledge you as Zainab Nerevarine." Suddenly his eyes lit up. "But... it is customary for one seeking an honour from the Ashkhan to offer a generous gift as a mark of respect."

I might have guessed he'd try it on. "That's funny," I said innocently. "Neither of the other Ashkhans asked me to give them gifts."

"No gifts? What are things coming to?" Kaushad shook his head sorrowfully. "No wonder you do not know our customs. But since you are an outlander, I will do you the great favour of naming the gift I wish to receive – a high-born Telvanni bride."

I nearly choked. "A Telvanni _bride_? You – you want to _marry_ a Telvanni?"

"Yes, a high-born Telvanni lady. A pretty one, plump, with big hips to bring me many sons."

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a kind of strangled squeak. "Where will you find a high-born Telvanni bride?" he went on, as if he hadn't heard me. "That is simple. Visit high-born Telvanni lords and inform them that Ashkhan Kaushad of the Lordly Zainab would do them the honour of making their daughter his bride. Surely many Telvanni lords would be honoured to receive such an offer."

"B-but –"

"Consider carefully the many daughters offered and choose for me the finest. Take counsel with my wise woman, Sonummu Zabamat – she knows my mind well in such matters."

Oh, the _bastard_. His eyes were sparkling; it was obvious he knew perfectly well what an impossible task he'd just sent me. He was just having a bit of fun with me – and the most annoying thing was that somehow, I still couldn't help liking the guy.

I briefly imagined myself standing in front of each of the Telvanni Councillors, asking them if they'd allow their daughters to marry the Zainab Ashkhan. Then I imagined trying to persuade a young, beautiful, wealthy Telvanni noblewoman that she wanted to marry a middle-aged Ashlander chief. Frankly, I thought I'd rather take my chances with an angry Azura.

"I'm a rich woman," I said, making a last-ditch save. "Might you be willing to accept some gold instead?"

Kaushad shook his head. "How can you ask this, outlander? A pretty bride to bring me sons and daughters is worth far more than gold."

I couldn't help wondering why he wasn't _already_ married if he was so keen to have kids – he wasn't exactly a spring chicken. Perhaps he had, and his first wife had died? I didn't like to ask.

At a loss for ideas, I went to see the wise woman Sonnammu Zabamat. She was a very old woman, but her eyes were bright and she looked crafty. When I explained why I'd come and what Kaushad had said, she chuckled softly.

"Kaushad wants a Telvanni bride, eh?" she said, shaking her head. "No high-born Telvanni would wed an Ashlander. But…" She considered for a moment. "I have a plan."

"Oh, thank the gods," I breathed. "What is it?"

"Go to my friend, Savile Imayn, slavemistress of the Festival Slave Market – "

"_Festival Slave Market?_"

"Yes, the Festival Slave Market in Tel Aruhn – and tell her you need a pretty Dunmer slave to pose as a Telvanni lady. She will tell you what clothes to buy, and will dress the slave like a high-born Telvanni. Then escort the pretty slave to Zainab camp and present her to Ashkhan Kaushad – he won't know the difference."

I opened my mouth to object, and then hesitated. Surely Kaushad was too smart to fall for a trick like that? But then again… he'd almost certainly never met a high-born Telvanni lady. It _might_ just work.

The only problem was, of course, that it would involve buying a slave. And the idea revolted me. I'd done a lot of things I wasn't too proud of in my quest to be named Nerevarine, but the line had to be drawn somewhere – and I certainly drew it at buying a slave woman in order to force her into marriage. As far as I was concerned, that was the worst possible form of slavery.

After a lot of thought, I eventually decided to go to the 'Festival Slave Market' (gods, what a name) and speak to Savile Imayn. Who knew – I might just find a young, pretty Dunmer slave woman who actually _wanted_ to marry an Ashkhan. Miracles could happen. And if I didn't… well, I'd just have to think of something else.

I slept over at the Fighter's Guild in Wolverine Hall, and Water Walked over to Tel Aruhn the next day. I was avoiding Sadrith Mora over what had happened with Neloth, but since he and Archmagister Gothren had been enemies, I figured Gothren's village ought to be relatively safe… unless some of _his_ friends or family were out for revenge. Well, I'd have to risk it.

The Festival Slave Market was at the edge of the village. Slaves were kept there in open cages carved out of mushrooms, dangling from the roots of the main tower. The sight was disturbing, but not nearly as horrific as it had seemed when I first arrived, and I realised with a jolt of shock that I was starting to get used to it. I really didn't want that to happen.

The slave trader Savile Imayn had clearly grown wealthy from her 'business', and wasn't interested in hiding it. She looked ridiculously overdressed in the extravagant clothes she wore, but obviously I didn't say so. I just walked over to her, forcing myself to smile.

"Ah, welcome to the Festival Slave Market!" she said brightly. "The finest slaves in Vvardenfell! I'm Savile Imayn, and – " Suddenly she broke off. "Wait a moment, aren't you the outlander who killed Archmagister Gothren? The one who claims to be Nerevar reborn?"

"I am," I admitted. "Er, is that a problem?"

"Not at all," she said, shrugging. "Call yourself the Nerevarine. We don't care. Anyway, I know we have the slave for you. Are you looking for standard household slaves, _sera_, or for something special?"

"Something special, I guess," I said. "I'm looking for a young, beautiful Dunmer woman with, ah, big hips."

Savile raised her eyebrows. "Not for _that_!" I protested, feeling my face grow hot. "I need her to pretend to be a high-born Telvanni lady."

"Really." Her expression didn't change. "Strange tastes you Imperials have. Well, it's all the same to me as long as – "

"I _don't want to sleep with her_!" People nearby were starting to look at us now. "Look," I said, lowering my voice, "let me try and explain."

I told her all about Ashkhan Kaushad and his… _unusual_ request, as well as the wise woman's suggestion. She laughed heartily, shaking her head. "Sweet Alma, that Sonummu Zabamat and her cunning plans! I do have the slave you want – Falura Llervu, a pretty Dunmer girl. But first you must buy some exquisite clothing to dress her in."

"Where can I get it from?"

"Tel Mora," she said instantly. "Elegnan the Clothier. See these clothes I'm wearing? I bought them at her shop."

I couldn't believe the nearest fine clothier was half-way across Vvardenfell. Thank heavens I'd placed that Mark near Vos, or I'd have had to make the four-day round trip again. As it was, all I had to do was cast the spell, take the boat from Vos to Tel Mora, and then use Divine Intervention to return to Wolverine Hall. I was back in Tel Aruhn before lunch.

"Excellent!" Savile cried when she saw the clothes. "These clothes are perfect… but I need a little more time to coach Falura Llervu to play her part." She thought for a moment. "I know just the thing we need! Go get a bottle of Telvanni Bug musk perfume. That will make Falura completely irresistible."

If she made me go back to Tel Mora again, I was going to kill her. "I take it there's an apothecary here?"

"Bilden Areleth, in the centre of the village." Well, thank the Gods for that.

I bought the perfume – this Telvanni impersonation lark was getting bloody expensive, I can tell you – and returned once again to Savile. "You have the Telvanni Bug Musk?" she asked. "Good. Now, let me tell you my price. For this superb specimen, skilfully coached to play her part in your little scheme, I am pleased to accept from you the modest sum of 1,200 drakes."

"I want to see her first," I said cautiously. Savile nodded and led me to one of the slave pens.

A young, dark-haired Dunmer woman stood inside the cage, her eyes demurely lowered. She was pretty – though perhaps a bit on the thin side – and simply but neatly dressed in a cotton skirt and shirt. It felt very creepy to be examining her as if she were a pack-horse.

"Falura?" I said softly.

The woman raised her eyes. "Yes, _sera_. Falura Llervu of Velothis Haven, daughter of Andrano Llervu, lord of Tel Llervu, pleased to make your acquaintance." Suddenly, to my surprise, her face broke into a grin. "See? Savile Imayn has taught me well. I shall _be_ a high-born Telvanni lady, and no one will know the difference."

"Well, that's… wonderful." I turned back to Savile. "Er, how much did you say she was?"

"1,200 drakes."

I couldn't bring myself to haggle over the price, especially not in front of the poor girl. I paid Savile with the letter of credit I'd been given by my bank, and for the first time in my life – and hopefully the last – found myself the 'proud' owner of a Dunmer slave.

"I also have an Imperial male for sale, if you're interested," Savile added hopefully.

"Maybe later," I said, privately thinking that nothing on Nirn could ever induce me to come back here.

I led Falura out of the market and down to the Tel Aruhn docks. I'd already considered how to get her to the Zainab camp – she didn't have a Recall spell, of course – and concluded that we'd just have to take the boat to Vos and walk from there. First, though, I needed to check that she was okay with Sonummu's little scheme.

"So, Falura," I said awkwardly, unsure of how to talk to someone I'd just bought. "How do you feel about marrying an Ashlander chief?"

Falura hesitated. "I admit, I am a little anxious… but anything is better than being a slave. And I am very tough and smart, and determined to make the best of my chances." She turned shy, hopeful eyes towards me, and I realised that she was very young – no more than seventeen or eighteen at most. "But Savile Imayn said you wanted to give me something... some presents?"

"Ah, yes." I held out the clothes to her, and she gasped with delight.

"Oh, _sera_!" she cried. "These clothes… they are divine!" She seized the clothes from me and held them to her cheek, burying her face into the velvety material, then grabbed the flask of bug musk in her other hand. "And such a perfume! Only the very rich can afford this!"

She sounded like a little kid who'd just been handed her birthday presents. I loathed myself for what I was about to do to her. This wasn't just another small step down the ladder of morality – more like a massive leap. What would my parents say if they saw me doing this? What would Athyn say – or, gods forbid, Varvur?

"Listen, Falura," I said urgently. "I won't force you to marry Kaushad if you don't want to. I'll let you go. You won't have to be a slave any more."

Falura shook her head vehemently. "No, please! I shall do everything I can to please you and my new master... that is, my gracious lord and husband-to-be. Come, I cannot wait! Let us travel together to Zainab camp and meet this Zainab lord!"

I hardly knew what to say. If she really was happy about it, I guess it was no worse than a typical arranged marriage… but it still didn't seem right to marry such a young, innocent girl to a man old enough to be her father, or even her grandfather.

What would happen if Kaushad ever realised the truth, I wondered? Would he take it out on poor Falura? I thought back to what I'd seen of the Ashkhan; obviously I didn't really know anything much about him, but I couldn't say that he'd struck me as the violent type. Arrogant and cocky, yes, but not a brute or a bully.

I decided to play it by ear and see what happened when Falura actually met Kaushad. She'd have plenty of time for second thoughts over the next few days, anyway, since we'd be spending them on board a ship to Vos.

The long journey was a little less boring with Falura as a companion. She was very talkative, full of questions, and seemed to see the whole thing as a kind of grand adventure. Before long she was asking me about myself and what I was doing in Vvardenfell, so I told her all about my quest to become Nerevarine.

"You are the Nerevarine?" she said in wonderment. "But... you are an outlander. How can that be? Such wonders in the world. Before, I was a slave; now I am a companion of the Nerevarine and the bride of a Zainab chief."

She told me about her own background, and how she'd ended up as a slave. A fairly typical story, it seemed – apparently her father had got in serious debt to the Camonna Tong, and she'd ended up as payment. What I couldn't understand was how meekly she accepted her fate. If my father had tried to do that to me, I'd have ripped his guts out – and I do mean that in a very literal sense.

From the docks at Vos, we spent an entire day walking to the Zainab camp. I must say that that was one of the most nerve-wracking journeys I've ever experienced. Falura was strong and a good walker, but she was completely helpless in a fight – and on top of protecting her, I had to worry that her beautiful clothes would get wet or torn or muddy. I've never been so relieved to finally reach an Ashlander camp.

Falura played her part beautifully, looking and sounding every inch the meek, doe-eyed virgin. It struck me that anyone who'd actually met a Telvanni would instantly realise she couldn't be one. Still, Ashkhan Kaushad didn't seem to notice.

"This is my new bride?" he said, looking approvingly at Falura. "I am very pleased with your gift, _sera_... though she is not so generous in the hips as I would like. I promise to make her a happy bride, and to do her honour as a high-born Telvanni lady. And, as I have said, I will now name you Zainab Nerevarine, War Leader of the Zainab, and Protector of the People."

He presented me solemnly with an enchanted sandal (yes, just one – another of his little jokes, maybe?) and then took us on a walk round the camp so he could show off his new bride. While he was discussing wedding preparations with Sonummu Zabamat, I quietly asked Falura what she thought of her bridegroom.

"He is very distinguished-looking, isn't he?" she whispered. "A bit severe, perhaps, but the lines on his face, there, show that he likes to smile. Oh, _sera_, I think I will be very happy."

Hmph. All's well that ends well, I guess, but I couldn't help thinking I'd been very lucky. What would I have done if I _hadn't_ managed to find a willing slave to marry Kaushad?

That night, the entire tribe held a massive celebratory dinner – singing, dancing and a hearty meal of scuttle and ash yams, washed down with lots and lots of mazte. I ended up seated next to Falura, and soon realised I didn't need to worry about her – she seemed to have fallen in love with Kaushad at first sight. I could see her eyes shining whenever she glanced at him.

"Thank you, sera," she whispered to me, while Kaushad was talking to one of his gulakhans. "I am very pleased with Ashkhan Kaushad. He is good-looking, clever, and rich – although a bit full of himself, like all men." We shared a sly grin. "Thank you for being my matchmaker and benefactor, and I hope you will visit us when I have brought Kaushad many fine sons and daughters."

After a few more drinks, she was even promising to name her firstborn child after me. We'd just have to hope it was a girl, I suppose.

It was near midnight when the party finally broke up. I exchanged goodbyes with a tearful Falura, and walked away from the gathering so that they wouldn't see my clumsy attempts to cast Divine Intervention. Just as I reached the edge of the camp, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.

"Psst! Outlander!" It was Kaushad. "Do not think me such a fool. Of course I realise you have tricked me."

My heart skipped a beat, but then I realised he was smiling. "I do not mind," he went on. "In fact, I think you are very clever to hoodwink the chief of the Zainab, and I think that maybe a clever Nerevarine is not such a bad thing at all. Besides, I am _much_ happier with this fine young woman than I would have been with a stuck-up Telvanni lady."

For a moment I just stood there open-mouthed. "Shake hands with me, Ashkhan," I said at last.

He hesitated. "It's a gesture of respect in my culture," I explained, "but it's also a sign that you've met your match. And I know when I've met mine."

A wide grin spread over Kaushad's face. He gripped my hand firmly and shook it so hard that he nearly sprained my wrist. "Here is a little gift, he said, handing me a small parcel he'd been carrying under his other arm. "Perhaps when you wear it, you will think of Falura Llervu and me."

It was too dark to see what he'd given me, so I didn't open the parcel until I got back to Wolverine Hall. When I saw what was in it, I gasped – it was an incredibly beautiful embroidered shirt, similar to the one I'd given Falura. I wished I could go back to the camp to thank Kaushad properly.

As I laid down to sleep in the Hall that night, I decided I liked the Zainab best out of all the Ashlander tribes. They were smart, and most importantly, self-reliant – no sitting around dreaming and moping and waiting for mystical heroes to save them. And they knew how to have a good time, as I'd seen today. In many ways they were a lot like Imperials – if they'd just get over their knee-jerk hatred of the Empire, I suspected they'd actually get on pretty well with my people.

The next day I got up bright and early to go to Tel Vos. The first thing I did when I arrived was give Aryon's guard captain, Turedus Talanian, the information about trade goods for the Zainab. He seemed very happy, and rewarded me with 100 drakes and an 'Amulet of Levitating' – something that would have been very useful at the _start_ of my quest to be Telvanni Hortator. Still, I guess you can never have enough levitation enchantments.

Now all I had to do was get Aryon to declare me Hortator. I hoped he wouldn't be angry about the Nartise Arobar business, but from what I'd seen of the Telvanni councillors in general, I suspected there was no love lost between him and Neloth.

I was right. Aryon had heard about the rescue, and he made me tell him the whole story. "So Neloth has lost his bargaining chip?" he said, chuckling. "I congratulate you, Ada. Most amusing."

"Unless you're one of the Arobars, I suppose," I said bluntly.

"Quite. But tell me, have you gathered the votes of the surviving Councillors?" I nodded. "I, too, am willing to vote for you… which means you are now the Hortator of House Telvanni. And I have a little something for you, called the 'Robe of the Hortator'."

Ooh, a robe this time? That sounded good. I waited as Aryon went to the bedroom below his chambers and returned carrying the Robe of the Hortator. He shook it out so I could see what it looked like… and I stared in utter horror.

It was _pink_. Bright pink and yellow. Someone was going to _die_ for this.

I could see the amusement in Aryon's face as I gingerly took the robe from him. "It is an ancient artifact," he said, "and hasn't been used in centuries. But I thought you would be pleased." He winked. "I wish you luck, Hortator. I may even pray for you."

I wondered who he would pray to, knowing the Telvanni weren't exactly big fans of the Temple. Surely not one of the Imperial gods? Azura, maybe?

Oh well, at least I'd got what I came for. Finally, after all these weeks, I'd passed one of the hardest tests of the Seven Visions. The Fourth Trial was complete.


	38. Chapter 38: Divine Intervention

**Chapter 38: Divine Intervention**

The last of the Ashlander tribes was the Erabenimsun, out in Molag Mar. I wasn't looking forward to this one – I remembered the Erabenimsun from the time I'd rescued that idiot priest from some witch-women, and the people there had seemed as harsh and unpleasant as the landscape they lived in. But it had to be done, so I practiced saying the name a few more times ("E-ra-ben-im-sun! E-ra-ben-im-sun!") and then set out from Wolverine Hall.

Arriving at the camp was a bit of a shock to the system after the pleasant time I'd spent in the Grazelands. The people there were as cold and unfriendly as I remembered them, and the looks I got from some of them were so hostile that I didn't dare do much more than skirt around the edges of the camp. Which is why I was delighted when I saw someone I recognised: Assaba-Bentus, the young hunter who'd helped me rescue the priest.

When he saw me, he grinned and waved. I couldn't help being relieved that he'd managed to escape from the mabrigashes. "So you got away?" I asked, as he walked over to me.

"I told you I would, outlander." He smiled triumphantly. "If you are looking for that fool of a priest, you come too late. He left many days ago."

"I'm glad to hear it," I said, "but that's not actually what I came for. I'm here to prove to your Ashkhan that I'm the Nerevarine."

Assaba-Bentus' eyes grew wide. "Then _you_ are the one who…? Sun and wind, outlander!" He shook his head. "You are lucky you met me and not one of the war-lovers! Go to our wise woman, Manirai, and tell her I sent you."

He led me through the camp to the wise woman's yurt, while I wondered what he meant by 'war-lovers'. _All_ the people I'd seen in the camp looked to be armed and – well, if not dangerous, at least very ready to defend themselves.

Inside the tent, Manirai soon explained. "I am of the peace-loving Erabenimsun," she told me. "We only wish to live and hunt as we have in the past, and do not wish to anger our neighbours by raiding and warfare. But Ashkhan Ulath-Pal and his supporters are strong and sure of themselves. They have grown rich by raiding and fighting, and they will not be ruled by the counsel of their wise woman."

My heart sank. "Then I don't suppose there's much chance of them agreeing to declare me the Nerevarine?"

"Never," she said instantly. "They all hate outlanders, and are proud and haughty, and will never suffer an outlander to rule them."

Damn it! Why did things always have to be so difficult? "If you would be Nerevarine of the Erabenimsun," she went on, "you must kill Ulath-Pal and his gulakhans, and help me make peace-loving gulakhan Han-Ammu our ashkhan. He could then name you Nerevarine."

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. 'War-lovers' or not, there was no way I was going to just walk into these people's tents and slaughter them without any provocation. I was getting really fed up with people using me and my Nerevarine quest as an excuse to bump off their political opponents. Why the hell didn't I just join the Murderers' Guild, or whatever those 'honourable' assassins called themselves?

On the other hand, clearly I had to find some way to deal with Ulath-Pal and his gulakhans. When Manirai told me that one of them, Ashu-Ahhe, was a great warrior and the strongest of the Erabenimsun, it gave me an idea: I would challenge him to a duel.

I persuaded a nervous Assaba-Bentus to show me the way to the Ashkhan's yurt, and asked him what Ulath-Pal might accept as a gift. "No gift you could give would please him, outlander," he said, biting his lip. "You will be lucky if he lets you out alive." I went in anyway.

Since arriving in Morrowind, I'd got pretty used to being looked at like I was something between a maggot and a cockroach. Even so, Ulath-Pal's attitude really took the cake. He looked at me with such obvious disgust that for a moment I wondered if my Corprus had come back. "What do you want, _Imperial_?" he asked, somehow making it sound like a swear word.

"Ashkhan Ulath-Pal." I bowed, ignoring the filthy look he was giving me. "I'd like to challenge your champion Ashu-Ahhe to a duel."

He snorted. "You are not even worth killing. Get out."

So much for Ashlander courtesy. "Perhaps you've heard of the Nerevarine Prophecies, Ashkhan?" I said, ignoring his rudeness. "This ring here is the Moon-and-Star, the symbol of Nerevar Indoril. I need to be declared Nerevarine of all the Ashlander tribes in order to fulfil the prophecies. Would you be willing to do this if I can defeat your champion?"

Ulath-Pal's mouth dropped open. For a moment I thought he was either going to spit in my face, or attack me on the spot.

"You want me to name you _Erabenimsun Nerevarine_? I would rather name you 'Guar-Dung'." How mature. "You are a hound. I despise you for a foreign fool, and the only honour I will show you is to kill you with my own hand if you ever trouble me again. Leave my sight, now, while you can."

"I'll just have to ask him myself, then," I said, shrugging. The other man in the tent, who seemed to be Ulath-Pal's bodyguard, took a threatening step towards me. I bowed again with exaggerated politeness and left the yurt.

When I faced Ashu-Ahhe in his own yurt and I told him what I wanted, he laughed shortly. "Yes, we know about the prophecies. We think they are foolish superstition. But if you want to die by my hand, so be it."

We arranged the duel for that evening, and I went to tell Manirai what I planned to do. She shook her head doubtfully. "I fear they will not deal honourably with you, outlander. Be prepared."

I took her advice, and spent the rest of the day making preparations.

As I walked that evening to the duelling ground – a small clearing just at the edge of the camp – I could feel the tension in the air. Even the 'peace-loving' Erabenimsun probably wouldn't be too happy to see their tribe's champion beaten by an outlander. I got a mild shock when I saw Ashu-Ahhe in his battle armour and realised that it was enchanted with a permanent Shield spell. No wonder this guy was considered so unbeatable…

Manirai had told me that he wasn't a spellcaster, so I didn't waste my time casting magical protections. Instead I began the duel by casting a Sound spell with the Ahemmusa Madstone, remembering how well that had worked against Calvario the vampire. I saw him wince momentarily, but it didn't even slow him down. Quite impressive.

Ashu-Ahhe was a powerful warrior, but unlike Bolvyn Venim, he didn't have the advantage of ebony armour and a Daedric longsword. His weapon was a simple chitin war axe, and underneath the Shield spell, his armour was standard bonemold. The hardest thing for me was breaking through the magical shield, which dulled the force of my sword strikes. After a long struggle, I managed to stab him in the unprotected area at the top of his thigh. As he gasped and flinched momentarily, I used my Star of the West power to drop him to the ground.

If it had stayed at that I would have let him live, but before I could do or say anything else, Ulath-Pal let out a howl of rage. "Outlander witch! You have cheated!"

I whirled round to face him. "Cheated? So it's fine for _him_ to use a magical shield, but if _I_ use spells and enchantments, that's cheating?"

He didn't even bother to answer me, just snapped his fingers at the two warriors standing beside him. "Kill her."

I'd been half-expecting something like this after what Manirai had said. As Ulath-Pal's goons closed in on me, I grasped my Amulet of Divine Intervention and cast the spell. I could see the shock and fury on their faces as I vanished, reappearing less than a second later in Wolverine Hall.

There was no time to waste. I cast a Recall spell, taking me to a secluded area in the hills just above the camp, where I'd set a Mark earlier that day. I edged forward until I could just see the tops of the yurts, and then cast the Chameleon enchantment on my Amulet of Shadows and straightened up to see the camp.

The place was in uproar, with people running around and shouting. By now Ashu-Ahhe was lying in a pool of blood – I must have hit a major blood vessel. No one seemed interested in healing him.

I spotted the Ashkhan along with his bodyguard, who wore nothing but furs. I hadn't wanted to do this, but there was nothing for it. So much for solving things peacefully, I thought, gritting my teeth as I took down my bow and the enchanted arrows I'd bought that afternoon. Well, at least I'd _tried_.

My first arrow, enchanted with deadly shock magicka, hit the bodyguard squarely in the chest. The others dived for cover, looking around frantically to see where the shot had come from, but they couldn't see me. I waited until the other warrior emerged cautiously from his hiding place and then shot another arrow, striking him in the thigh. Three down, one to go.

Ulath-Pal was more difficult, as he was wearing armour. His head was unprotected, but I didn't trust my aim enough to try and hit him from this distance. Thinking quickly, I cast the Amulet of Levitating that Master Aryon's guard captain had given me, and floated down until I was just behind the Ashkhan. Hovering slightly above him, I brought the edge of my glass longsword heavily down on his skull.

At that moment the Levitation spell wore off – followed seconds later by the Chameleon spell – and I fell to the ground in a heap. My ankle went _crunch_.

"Excuse me," I said faintly to the circle of shocked, frightened faces gathering around me. "I think I've broken my ankle. One moment please." White-hot pain shot through me, and for a moment I nearly passed out. I fumbled around for a potion before Manirai, looking astonishingly calm, stepped forward and cast a healing spell.

"Thanks." I struggled to my feet. "And now I'd like to speak to… what was his name again? Han-Ammu."

A lank-haired, rather weedy-looking young man stumbled forward, visibly trembling. "I am Han-Ammu. What do you want with me?"

"I'm told you're next in line to be Ashkhan."

"What? No!" His face was filled with horror. "I – I cannot!"

I went over to Han-Ammu and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps you and I should go to your yurt and have a little talk?"

...

I'd thought persuading Han-Ammu to become Ashkhan would be the easiest part of my task, but boy was I wrong about that. I did my best to explain the Nerevarine situation to him, but it just seemed to make things worse. "So you killed Ulath-Pal and his supporters, just because of these prophecies?" he gasped. "You are mad!"

"I didn't kill them because of the prophecies," I said, trying to keep my patience. "I killed them because they were trying to kill _me_. Anyway, Manirai says that – "

"I don't care what Manirai says," he said flatly. "I don't want to be Ashkhan. Everyone despises me. I am a weakling, and a coward, and a fool – I hate it, but it is true. I just want to be left alone."

"Well, we all have to do things we don't want," I said. "Do you think I _want_ to be the Nerevarine? You think you've got it bad – I'm going to have to march up Red Mountain and face off against a _living god_. Think yourself lucky."

He shook his head miserably. "I'm not good at fighting. And no one likes me, anyway. I can't make anyone do anything."

"Couldn't you be Ashkhan just long enough to make me the Nervarine?" I asked, in exasperation. "And then give the job to someone else?"

Han-Ammu sighed. "You don't understand. You cannot just give up the title of Ashkhan – once you have it, it is yours for life. And I don't _want_ to be Ashkhan." His voice rose to a high-pitched whine. "Don't you understand? I won't be any good at it. I am going to be a complete failure, and everyone will hate me even more than they do now. _Please_! I just want to be left alone!"

Well, it wasn't difficult to see why everyone hated the guy. I was about to drop the softly-softly approach and _really_ let him have it, when I heard a small, faraway voice echoing in my head. "_No! I won't do this!_ _I am NOT the Nerevarine! You can't make me…_"

Sigh. I might have known my own words would come back to haunt me someday. For the first time, I was starting to understand just how I must have looked to Caius Cosades. Stifling a groan, I left the yurt and went back to speak with Manirai.

When I told her about Han-Ammu's reluctance, she didn't seem surprised. "Han-Ammu is the son of our former chief, Airan-Ammu, but he is nothing like his father. Of the many virtues required by an ashkhan, he lacks only three things: strength, courage, and wisdom."

"Just those, eh?" I heaved a sigh. "Surely there must be _something_ he's good at?"

"I fear not. But – " here a sly look came over her face – "Ulath-Pal and his gulakhans all bore tokens recognised by the tribe as conferring strength, willpower, and intelligence. If you could recover these, and persuade Han-Ammu to accept them, it might give him the confidence to accept the responsibilities of leadership."

I didn't exactly enjoy the thought of stripping my dead enemies' corpses, but I was too tired to protest. "Okay, I guess it's worth a try. What should I say to him?"

Manirai frowned. "But you claim to be Nerevar reborn. Surely you don't need my counsel?"

"Um. Well." I gave an embarrassed cough. "I'll be honest with you, Manirai: I'm not _quite_ as good a diplomat as the real Nerevar. Besides, I think even he would have had trouble with Han-Ammu."

She raised her eyebrows. "And what would Nerevar himself have done, if his powers of persuasion failed him?"

I shrugged. "Well, he sounds like a practical sort of guy. I'm guessing he'd have found someone who was better at it than he was, and asked them for help."

We stared at each other for several seconds. Manirai cracked first. "Very well, outlander," she said wearily. "Listen, and I will tell you what to say."

...

It was past midnight, and I was still sitting in Han-Ammu's yurt. "Yes, I see," he said solemnly, looking down at the enchanted war axe lying in his lap. "It is the axe that gives strength in war, and it is the idea of the axe that gives confidence to the tribe, but it is the ashkhan who bears the axe, who accepts responsibility for the safety of the tribe. Now, with Ulath-Pal dead, I hold the fate of the tribe in my hands, and I must accept that responsibility."

I'd made this speech three times over now, once with each of the enchanted tokens, and I was close to breaking point. "So you'll agree to be Ashkhan now? _Please_?"

There was an unbearably long pause, and then he nodded. "Thank you for your lesson, Ada. I shall be Ashkhan of the Erabinimsun, and I shall name you Nerevarine."

I could almost have kissed him. "_Thank_ you!"

"Wait one moment." He scampered out of the tent, and returned carrying a jewelled belt. "This is the Seizing of the Erabenimsun, an enchanted heirloom of the tribe. It shall be a sign to all Dunmer that the Erabenimsun have named you Nerevarine."

I thanked him again, now so tired that I was practically falling asleep on my feet, and Divine-Interventioned back to Wolverine Hall. I didn't even have the energy to get undressed before falling into bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt like punching the air in triumph. I'd done it! I was the Nerevarine! The relief was so great, I could almost have forgotten that I'd never really wanted it in the first place. And all I had to do now was kill a God…

Soaking in the two-hour bath I always needed after travelling in the wilds, I mulled over my next move. All I had to go on was the message from Archcanon Saryoni's assistant asking me to meet him in the High Fane. I guessed that I should take all my proofs with me if I wanted to be taken seriously.

Knowing I'd have to get it over with sometime, I swallowed my pride and forced myself to try on the Robe of the Hortator. It was even worse than I thought – not only did the colour clash horribly with my pale skin and red hair, but the robe itself was clearly designed for someone much larger and wider than me. I looked like something out of a cake shop. I could forget about walking inconspicuously through Vivec in this thing – I'd probably be visible from the top of White Gold Tower.

There was only one thing for it: go that evening under cover of darkness. This being midwinter, it turned out to be under cover of rain as well. The upside was that the Ordinators, busy trying to keep their shiny armour dry, didn't pay too much attention to me – they probably assumed I was starring in one of Crassius Curio's plays or something.

I'd been worried about having to take off my armour, but the Hortator's Robe turned out to have one advantage: it was big and loose enough that I could wear it _over_ my cuirass without any difficulty. It also trailed on the ground about a foot behind me. If Nerevar himself had really worn this thing – which, frankly, I didn't believe for a second – he must have been a half-giant. (I guess that would explain the terrible fashion sense.)

By the time I reached the Temple canton, dripping and squelching with every step, the only thing I wanted was to get back home and be clean and warm and dry. I was convinced that I was going to catch a cold, until I remembered I couldn't get colds any more. Blinking raindrops out of my eyes, I looked around for the priestess I was supposed to be meeting – and then realised I didn't even know what she looked like.

Just as I was starting to panic, I heard a woman's voice calling urgently from the shadows. "Quickly! Over here!"

I followed the sound into the large arched passageway that ran underneath the High Fane, hoping I wasn't being led into a trap. Peering into the gloom, I suddenly recognised the woman who'd spoken – it was the priestess who'd sold me all those Rising Force potions to use at Vivec's shrine. Bollocks.

"Did you want to – " she began, and then suddenly broke off. "It's _you_!"

"Yes. Me." Not the wittiest response ever, but I wasn't exactly on top form right now.

Danso Indules stared at me for several seconds, clearly not quite believing that I was the person she was supposed to meet. "You're here to meet the Archcanon?"

"If possible, yes."

She still looked dubious. "Then… you have been declared Hortator and Nerevarine by the Houses and tribes? You have their tokens?"

I pulled off my left gauntlet. "This ring is the Moon-and-Star," I said, showing it to her. "And this other ring is the Hortator's token from House Redoran. The belts are from House Hlaalu and the Erabenimsun, and this, uhm, _eclectic_ collection of amulets – plus one fashionable shoe – comes from the other Ashlander tribes. And finally, this stunning robe is the Robe of the Hortator from House Telvanni."

"Very well," she said with a sigh. "Archcanon Saryoni is in his private quarters, and he very much wishes to speak with you, but I am to warn you... avoid confrontations with the Ordinators at all costs. Berel Sala has informed them that you may try to assassinate the Archcanon."

"What? You're joking!" That lying bastard!

She shook her head. "There is a private back entrance to Saryoni's quarters, reachable from the Hall of Wisdom. If you manage to sneak past the Ordinators by stealth or magic, and pick the lock, you might reach him that way."

Swearing under my breath, I made my way to the Hall of Wisdom, following the directions Danso had given me. I could sneak past the Ordinators using the Amulet of Shadows, but it didn't have much charge left, so I'd have to be careful not to take too long. I had a moment of panic when I took a wrong turning inside the maze of passages, but at last I managed to reach the secret door the priestess had mentioned. Luckily no one was there to see me as I cast an Ondusi's Unhinging spell to open it.

Archcanon Saryoni, who was pacing up and down by his desk, looked around sharply when he heard the door creak open. His eyes widened when he saw me and he instinctively backed away a couple of steps. I don't think it occurred to him that this madwoman, dripping water and dressed like something out of a freak show, could be the person he'd arranged to meet.

"Archcanon," I whispered urgently. "It's me, Ada Ventura. The Nerevarine."

"_You_?" For a moment he looked stunned, then he recovered himself. "I see. Thank you for coming, Sera Ventura. I – " He broke off, and cleared his throat. "You know the Temple's doctrine on the Nerevarine?"

"I do," I said with a sigh. "But _serjo_, I have to ask you something. If you keep arresting and killing everyone who looks like they might fulfil the prophecies, how will you ever _know_ if they're true or not?"

There was a pregnant pause. "The Temple must protect the people from false doctrines," Saryoni said at last. "And your association with Imperial intelligence makes your motivations and integrity suspect. But our situation is desperate. Much as I hate to admit it, you and your prophecies may represent our last hope."

I waited for him to continue. "I would rather have you hear the details of our situation, and the circumstances leading up to that situation, from Lord Vivec himself. He has asked to see you. Would you agree to a private meeting with him, and hear in person what he has to say?"

Wow. This was unexpected. "A meeting with Vivec himself? Really?"

Saryoni nodded. I hesitated, wondering whether to trust him. This could be a trap, I thought. On the other hand… if he'd wanted to trap me, he could just have waited here with a dozen Ordinators.

"All right," I said at last. "I'll do it."

"Good." Hurriedly, Saryoni pressed a small key into my hand. "Here is a key which will open the locked entrance to Lord Vivec's palace. He is expecting you. His Lordship is remarkably patient, but perhaps it would be better not to keep him waiting."

I thanked him politely and used my Almsivi Intervention amulet to take me back to the temple entrance. From here it was just a short walk to the palace, and that locked door that I'd once gazed at in awe, never imagining I'd ever have any reason to go through it.

As I turned the key in the lock, I felt a tiny prickle of nervousness and excitement. I was going to meet a _god_! Okay, so there'd already been Azura… but so far I'd only felt her presence, and heard her voice in my head. I hadn't really _met_ her as such. My heart was thumping heavily as the door swung open and I stepped inside the room.

The huge domed chamber was almost empty apart from three pillars and a triangular plinth in the centre, surrounded by braziers. Over the plinth, glowing in the light of the braziers, a figure floated several feet above the ground. He was sitting cross-legged and wore nothing but a loincloth and some mismatched pauldrons.

This must be Vivec, I thought. I walked over to the plinth and bowed low, then raised my eyes to the chief god of the Dunmer.

Vivec was about the same size as a normal Dunmer, with a slim, almost delicate build. He had soft, hypnotic golden eyes, and his face had an ageless look to it that reminded me of some of the oldest Telvanni. The strangest thing about him was his skin, which was split down the middle – the left half of his body was ash-grey like an ordinary Dunmer's, while the right side was gold-coloured, like an Altmer's.

He wasn't quite as impressive as I'd hoped, to be honest. After all the build-up to this moment, I'd just been expecting something… _more_, I guess. I didn't doubt that Vivec really was a god, but I didn't sense anything coming from him that resembled the tremendous power I'd felt in Azura's presence. Apart from his strange skin colouration, he looked pretty much like any other elf.

So this was the guy who was supposedly getting it on with all the Buoyant Armigers? I can't say he really appealed to me, though I could certainly see how some people – male as well as female – might be attracted to him. It struck me that I'd just met a God for the first time, and all I could think about was whether I'd want to do him. Then I suddenly wondered if he could read minds.

I felt myself blushing heavily, but if Vivec had heard my thoughts, he didn't show it. He went on looking at me for a few more seconds, a neutral expression on his face, and then finally spoke.

"I expected you. We have business, you and I." His voice was lighter and softer than I had expected. "When I was young like you, I was very impatient – so I will keep our business short. Then, later, there may be time for… other things."

Oh shit, maybe he really had heard what I was thinking about. Or guessed. "What sort of business, Lord Vivec?" I asked, my mouth suddenly very dry.

"First, I propose to remove my curse upon the Nerevarine, end the persecution of the Dissident Priests, and proclaim to all Morrowind that Ada Ventura is the Incarnate and Nerevarine, the prophesied saviour of Morrowind, and the last hope to withstand the menace of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House." He looked straight at me. "These things I will do, whether you wish or not."

Was he kidding me? How could I _not_ want that? "Fine by me!" I said weakly. "Go ahead!"

"Next, I propose to surrender to you the power and responsibility of defeating Dagoth Ur." He uncrossed his legs and floated down to the ground in front of me. "You may choose to refuse; I will not compel you. You will receive the power as a gift, in the form of an artifact called 'Wraithguard', and the responsibility as an oath. First, will you accept Wraithguard as a gift?"

"What _is_ Wraithguard?" I asked cautiously.

"Answer me first."

"All right." I shrugged. "I accept."

"Good. Sensible of you." Seemingly out of nowhere, a heavy, ornate armoured gauntlet appeared in Vivec's hands. He handed it over to me. "And now, will you give your oath, before all gods and men, before all spirits visible and invisible, before my honour and your honour, to dedicate yourself and Wraithguard to the defeat and destruction of Dagoth Ur, and the preservation of Morrowind and its people?"

Sweet Mara, what was I getting myself into? But I'd known all along that it would eventually come to this. There was no turning back now – I had to defeat Dagoth Ur, and I couldn't possibly do it without Vivec's help.

I took a deep breath. "Yes. I swear it."

"Not very sensible," he said with a slight smile. "But very good. I was hoping for someone who would have no hesitations about making such an oath. You will now have a brief, momentary sensation of time passing."

"What?" I took a step backwards. "What are you going to do?"

"Don't be alarmed," he said calmly. "You are being taken out of time in order to avoid the unpleasant experience of learning how to use Wraithguard. It will be over before..." For a brief moment I felt myself floating, weightless, in total darkness. "...you know it."

And then I was back in the palace, standing in front of Vivec. I drew another long, shaky breath. "Okay. What now?"

"I will notify the Temple that you are our champion. There shall be no more persecution of the Dissident Priests, and I hope both sides shall swiftly be reconciled." He stepped back up onto his plinth. "We have time for questions, if you like – or you may leave, as you wish. But I think there are at least two things you ought to know before you leave: how to use Wraithguard, and how to defeat Dagoth Ur."

"Okay, so let's start with Wraithguard. What should I do with it?" Then it occurred to me. "It's one of Kagrenac's Tools, isn't it?"

Vivec nodded. "To defeat Dagoth Ur, you must go to Red Mountain to recover the other tools – the artifact hammer Sunder and the blade Keening. Then proceed with all three to the citadel of Dagoth Ur, and find the Heart of Lorkhan. Use the three artifacts to sever Dagoth Ur's connection to the Heart, and he will be destroyed, and the Blight ended on Morrowind."

"How do I sever the connection?"

"Strike the Heart once with Sunder, then several times with Keening. You must wear Wraithguard, because you cannot handle either Sunder or Keening without it. That is the short, simple explanation." Again something materialised in his hand, this time a piece of paper. "Here is the long, detailed explanation, written down for your convenience. Read it, study it, commit it to memory."

My mind was reeling as I took the paper. "So… what the Dissident Priests said is true. You _did_ get your powers from the Heart."

"Some of it is true," he said quietly. "That part, yes. But not all."

"But you persecuted them." I knew I was on dangerous ground here, but I couldn't help myself. "You allowed your followers to have them imprisoned and tortured and murdered, for saying something you _knew_ was true. And you tried to have me killed. Why?"

"Suppression and persecution of dissent is just one of the standard tools of statecraft." My jaw dropped. "As for you… I thought you were my enemy. A pawn of the subtle Daedra Lord Azura, or of Emperor Uriel Septim, or a simple fraud – perhaps a Hero – but not much of one if my faithful could destroy you. Now, circumstances are altered. Mistakes were made... but no more."

_Mistakes were made_? Gods, he sounded just like any other weaselly politician. This was the god-king Vivec, the great leader worshipped by the entire Dunmer nation?

"Why not just tell them the truth?" I demanded. "Did you really think the people who'd worshipped you for centuries would abandon you just for that?"

"Because the Apographa was such an unfortunate mixture of truth, falsehood, and speculation that I couldn't afford to manage the confused reaction of our faithful. Any doubt whatsoever weakened their faith, and we needed their faith to give us the power to maintain the Ghostfence." He shrugged. "In retrospect, perhaps we lost the faith of those we most needed while preserving the faith of the meek and indifferent. Who can say?"

I said nothing, but I wasn't convinced. Yes, his explanations sounded very reasonable, very human – but that was exactly the point. I'd expected better from a God, somehow.

"In my library, I have made available two conflicting accounts of the events of Red Mountain." He gestured towards the back of the room, where some papers lay on a lectern. "My own true account, and another false account common among the Ashlanders and preserved in the Apographa. Read them. I don't care whether you believe my account or not; I leave it up to you to judge which is true."

I walked hesitantly over to the lectern and began to read the papers. One was written by Vivec himself – supposedly a transcript of his own words to a captured Dissident Priest undergoing interrogation. (So Vivec carried out these 'interrogations' in person, did he? That certainly didn't make me feel any more comfortable around him around him.) The other claimed to be an account from a shield-companion of Nerevar, who came to live among the Ashlanders after Nerevar's death.

The parts concerning the life of Nerevar were roughly the same in both accounts. They told the story of his friendship with Dumac, the king of the Dwarves, and their eventual falling-out which led to war and the Battle of Red Mountain. It was only when they reached the part about Nerevar's death and Kagrenac's Tools that they started to diverge. Vivec's own account was broadly in line with what I'd already heard from the Dissident Priests, but the other version told a very different story.

According to the second account, Nerevar didn't die of his wounds after the battle. He left Dagoth Ur to guard Kagrenac's tools, and tried to summon Azura to ask for her counsel. But the Tribunal, who wanted the power of the tools for themselves, used a false summoning ritual with poisoned robes and candles. Nerevar was murdered.

After his death, a furious Azura appeared to the Tribunal. She cursed them and their entire race for what they had done, turning their skins the colour of ash and their eyes as red as fire. The story ended with a dire warning from Azura: "_What you have done here today is foul beyond measure, and you will grow to regret it. For the lives of gods are not what mortals think, and matters that weigh only years to mortals weigh on gods forever._"

A chill ran down my spine as I read those words. Was I imagining things, or had the room just got a lot colder? I had a sudden vision of the dying Nerevar, surrounded by his wife and his two most trusted friends, screaming in agony and despair as he realised he'd been betrayed. True or not, the fact that this story even existed made one thing very clear: I couldn't necessarily trust anything Vivec said to me.

I tucked away the two papers into my pack and slowly left the room, lost in thought. I could feel Vivec's eyes on me as I left the room, but he didn't say anything. I'm sure he realised I didn't trust him, but what could either of us do about it?

I didn't look at Vivec's plans to defeat Dagoth Ur until the next day. He talked about scouting campaigns, aggressive raids inside the Ghostfence, assaults on the citadels of Ur's Ash Vampire kin, and finally a full-scale attack on Dagoth Ur himself. Things you'd expect to do with an entire army as backup. And I'd have to do it all alone.

Well, at least I had a magic glove.


	39. Chapter 39: Ada Vs The Volcano

**Chapter 39: Ada Vs. The Volcano**

I can't describe what a relief it was to finally be able to walk through the streets in safety, without having to constantly check over my shoulder for Ordinators. I wanted run around Vivec shouting out the good news, but since it was still pouring with rain that would have been a bit impractical (and probably got me arrested for disturbing the peace). Instead I spent the morning in Ebonheart, looking over Vivec's plans to defeat Dagoth Ur.

Before going back to Ald'ruhn, I went to the Duke's chambers to collect the Lord's Mail. Never mind how dishonourably I'd come by it – at this point I needed as much protection as I could get. Another thing I decided to take was the Shadow Shield, the enchanted shield I'd picked up in the stronghold of Kogoruhn. I left Chrysamere, though – it had been useful in the fight against Bolvyn Venim, but I mostly preferred to fight with a one-handed sword and shield rather than a heavy, unwieldy claymore.

When I arrived in Ald'ruhn I found a message waiting for me at the Fighters' Guild. It was from Varvur, asking me to meet him in the evening at the Rat in the Pot – he must have waited there every evening for several days. Aww, how sweet of him.

I spent the day in Skar receiving congratulations from Athyn Sarethi and the other councillors, but I couldn't keep my mind off my appointment with Varvur. When I finally arrived at the tavern that night, he was waiting in one of the lower rooms – the same one where we'd spent the night together a week ago.

As soon as the door closed behind me, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me as if we hadn't met for a year. "I missed you," he murmured against my cheek.

I felt slightly guilty. I _had_ missed him, of course, but the truth was I'd been so busy that I'd barely had time to think about him. I hugged him back extra-tightly to make up for it.

"I heard the news," he said at last. "Lord Vivec himself has declared you the Nerevarine. Is it true that you have actually seen him? Spoken to him?"

I nodded, and he heaved an envious sigh. "It must have been an incredible experience. I would give almost anything to have been in your place."

He looked so awed that I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd found it a bit of a letdown. "What have you been doing in the meantime?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Almost nothing. The weather has been too bad for any Redoran expeditions." He clenched his fists. "I feel so useless. You are going off to battle Dagoth Ur, while I'm stuck here. If I could only go with you to Red Mountain – "

"No," I said firmly. "Either you'd get corprus, or you'd end up with a blight disease or something. The only reason I can go is because I'm immune to those things."

He sank down onto he bed with a frustrated sigh. I sat down beside him, sliding my arms around him. "Isn't there anything else you could do? Join the Legion, or – okay, maybe not the Legion. What about the Redorans at Ghostgate?"

"Hmm." Varvur looked thoughtful. "My cousin Salyn is a Buoyant Armiger at Ghostgate. I suppose I could join the Order, if my parents would agree to it."

"The Armigers? Aren't they the ones who all – " I broke off, but it was too late.

"Who all… what?"

"Er." I could feel myself blushing. "I heard that they, ah, 'serve' Lord Vivec in more ways than one. If you know what I mean."

For a moment Varvur looked shocked, and then he burst out laughing. "Who told you that?"

"The publican at Ghostgate." My face was burning.

"Well, she was teasing you." He shook his head. "I don't mean to be rude, but… I think it is hard for a Westerner to understand. Your gods are so distant… but imagine if you could actually see and speak with the people you had worshipped all your life. The love we Dunmer have for Vivec is not the same kind that a mortal has for another mortal."

"But, um, the _36 Lessons_ – "

"Those are all metaphor and… what is the word? Allegory." He paused. "I am not saying that Lord Vivec hasn't had mortal lovers. But for _all_ the Armigers to be… that is ridiculous. Why would he bother with people like my cousin Salyn when he has the Lady Almalexia?"

My head jerked up. "Hang on. Almalexia? I thought she was Nerevar's wife?"

"She was, yes, before his death. After that she became the consort of Lord Vivec."

My mind was starting to race. Vivec and Almalexia were lovers? That certainly put a whole new spin on the story of Nerevar and the Tribunal. Had that really started after Nerevar's death… or before it?

It didn't necessarily mean anything, of course. But… if the people involved had been mortals, rather than gods, I wondered if anyone could have avoided drawing the obvious conclusion.

Varvur was looking at me oddly. "Is something wrong?"

"Er… no. Nothing." I took a deep breath. "Varvur… what's going to happen about us? We can't keep meeting in secret like this forever."

"I know." He paused. "I'm not sure if… Ada, do you think you would be willing to marry me? Have my children? Not _yet_," he added, seeing my expression, "but later, perhaps?"

"I'm… not sure. Maybe. If things work out, I mean." Both of us were silent for a minute.

"I think perhaps we should wait," I said at last. "Until I get back from Red Mountain, I mean. After all… I can't even be sure I ever will come back."

Varvur's arms tightened around me. "No! You are the prophesised Incarnate. Even Vivec himself has said so. How can you possibly fail?"

"The prophecies only say that I have to defeat Dagoth Ur," I reminded him. "Not that I have to survive the battle."

Neither of us said much else, but we spent a long time lying in each other's arms. And despite what we'd just agreed, we slept together one last time before I left. After all, it might be the only chance we got.

... ...

The week that followed was a long, painful, seemingly endless slog. I'd spend all day battling through the raging blight storms of Red Mountain, fighting cliff racers in the air and monsters of all kinds on the ground, until finally I reached one of the ancient Dwemer citadels. Then I'd carve a path through the Sixth House servants inside while hunting around for the rest of Kagnerac's Tools.

In the notes he'd given me, Vivec had suggested that I challenge each of Dagoth Ur's 'ash vampire' kin before tackling Ur himself. According to him, this might fool Ur into thinking I was trying to make my way up the Sixth House hierarchy. I wouldn't be able to kill any of them permanently, as the Heart of Lorkhan would eventually bring them back to life, but it would at least buy me time to search for Sunder and Keening.

Most of the Ash Vampires attacked me on sight, but I did have one rather weird encounter in Endusal, the citadel of Dagoth Endus. I'd been using a Chameleon spell to sneak past one of those tentacle-monsters, and ran straight into Endus himself. He spotted me as soon as I got close, but instead of attacking, he smiled and raised a hand in greeting.

"I greet you, Ada Ventura," he said in a friendly way. "Or Nerevar. Or whoever you are. I'm Dagoth Endus, brother of Dagoth Ur, and lord of Citadel Endusal. Would you like a little ancient Dagoth brandy?"

I was a little taken aback, to say the least. "_Dagoth brandy_?"

"It is a rare nectar beyond compare, distilled ages before your ancestor's ancestors, and a fitting toast to our challenge." He uncorked a small bottle and held it out to me. "Would you like to sample it?"

"Are you joking?" I snapped. "Just how stupid do you think I am?" Talos, I thought this kind of thing only happened in trashy adventure novels. "_Ah, Agent Ventura, I've been expecting you. Please sit down and enjoy a sumptuous meal while I explain my over-complicated plans for world domination._"

"No? Pity. But then, a pity to waste it on a coward like you." He tossed the bottle aside. "Still, you are the challenger, so honour demands that you deliver the first blow. Whenever you're ready."

After we'd fought, and I'd defeated him – somehow I got the impression he wasn't really trying – I thought how weird it was for an Ash Vampire to fuss about honour and etiquette. Maybe he was trying to win my sympathy, but in my view it just made him a hypocrite on top of everything else. You couldn't claim to care about 'honour' and then spend all your time skulking under a mountain, sending out hordes of blighted minions to terrorise people who couldn't fight back, and hypnotising innocent people into doing your bidding. The fact that the Ash Vampires weren't just mindless monsters made their actions _worse_, not better.

The other strange thing that happened that week occurred at Ghostgate, in the Tower of Dusk. I'd come back to the Redoran hostel after a long day of battling ash creatures and Corprus beasts, and was surprised to see a grey-haired, balding Imperial in a Legion cuirass sitting at the bar. When he saw me, he smiled and motioned me over to join him.

"Hello," he said, patting the seat beside him. "They call me Wulf. What brings you to Ghostgate?"

Wulf? Weird name for an Imperial – it sounded more Nordic. "I'm the Nerevarine, believe it or not," I said, hoping I wouldn't have to explain what it meant. "I'm going to confront Dagoth Ur beneath Red Mountain."

His face lit up. "What a piece of luck! Look. I'm an old Legion veteran – as old as the poor old Emperor, bless his soul. I'm too old for campaigning – I came this far to look at hell, but I can't go any farther than this." He scrabbled in his pocket and fished out an old, worn-looking coin. "I'd take it kindly if you'd carry this old lucky coin with you when you go to Dagoth Ur. Sort of a token of the tough young hero I used to be. Would you do that for an old man?"

"Sure," I said, taking the coin. It felt slightly warm in my hand. I slipped it into my own pocket and turned back to Wulf, remembering that he'd mentioned the Emperor. "Have you heard anything more about the troubles back in Cyrodiil?"

Wulf sighed. "The Emperor is getting old. Don't know how much longer he'll hang on. So is the whole Empire, for that matter – getting old, that is." He took a swig of his drink. "The Emperor and the legions have held the Empire together for hundreds of years. It's been a good thing, by and large… but maybe it's time for a change? Time for something young and new."

His words reminded me of what Caius had said just before he left for Cyrodiil. "What sort of thing?"

"No idea," he said promptly. "I'm old, and old dog doesn't get new ideas. But maybe young folks like you should try some. Could be messy... but change is never pretty."

"Yeah. Maybe." I found it hard to imagine life without the Empire, and frankly I preferred not to think about it.

"Well, good luck on the mountain," he said with a smile. "Go with Kynareth – and don't forget my old lucky coin."

At that moment the bartender called over to ask what I wanted to drink, and I turned away to speak to her. When I turned back a moment later, Wulf had gone – completely vanished. Odd.

"Do you know that guy?" I asked the bartender.

"What guy?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"The one I was talking to just now. Old Legion veteran. Calls himself Wulf."

She looked bewildered. "I didn't see anyone. And I don't remember any old Legion veterans here at all… at least, not in a _very_ long time. I could be wrong, but I don't think so."

I looked back at the seat where Wulf had been sitting only moments ago. How could she _not_ have seen him? Maybe he was a ghost, I thought. Nothing would surprise me any more.

I took out Wulf's coin to look at it as I sipped my drink. There was something a bit unusual about it, and I suddenly realised what it was – the face on the coin was Tiber Septim, not the current Emperor Uriel VII. Boy, it had to be _really_ old – Tiber had died four hundred years ago.

"Go with Kynareth," Wulf had said. I laughed rather bitterly. Every one of the Nine Divines would have to be working overtime if they wanted to get me out of this alive.

... ...

At long last I had gathered everything I needed for the assault on Dagoth Ur's citadel. I paid one last visit to Vivec's Shrine in the Temple Canton before flying out to Red Mountain from Ald'ruhn. I'd chosen to go at night in the vague hope that I might be able to catch Ur unawares, though I knew it wasn't very likely.

I couldn't take very much with me this time, as I had to carry Sunder, Keening and Wraithguard on top of my normal gear. Unfortunately Wraithguard was made for the right hand, so I had to use it in place of my normal strength-enhancing gauntlet. I'd just have to hope that Wraithguard's impressive set of defensive enchantments would make up for it.

Flying over Red Mountain at night was an even more nerve-wracking experience than it was during the daytime. The combination of darkness and thick ash-storms made it almost impossible to see anything, especially in a closed helmet, and I had to rely on my sense of direction to guide me towards Dagoth Ur's citadel. It was pretty much by luck that I finally spotted the bubbling crater of Red Mountain far below.

I'd expected the place to be heavily guarded, but there was nothing around the entrance apart from a few cliff racers. I guess Dagoth Ur never expected anyone to get that far. More fool him, I thought, as I searched for the crank to open the Dwarven door.

The inside of the citadel looked like any other Dwemer ruin. I'd been hoping to somehow sneak in and find the Heart without having to face Ur himself, but I hadn't taken more than a few steps before I heard a mocking voice calling to me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"_Come, Nerevar. Friend or traitor, come._" The voice seemed to come from the walls themselves. "_Come and look upon the Heart, and Akulakhan. And bring Wraithguard... I have need of it._"

How did he know I was there? And what the hell was 'Akulakhan'? Oh well, so much for the subtle approach. I was just going to have to face him head on.

Dagoth Ur's taunts continued as I progressed deeper into the ruin. For the most part I ignored them – in fact, they were quite useful in helping me to find my way through the facility. But it was pretty damn creepy to think that this guy was somehow watching my every move.

The ancient, rust-covered Dwarven corridors were almost empty apart from Sixth House guards and a few dead bodies. I couldn't help rolling my eyes as I walked past a bunch of randomly-placed lava pits – honestly, this guy was seeming more like the villain of a cheesy adventure story every minute. He even had an underground volcano lair, for crying out loud. All I needed now was for him to kidnap Varvur, dress him up in a skimpy outfit and dangle him over a shark-infested pool.

At the very end of the innermost chamber was a small wooden door, guarded by the last of the Ash Vampires. I could sense that Dagoth Ur was very near now. After defeating the guard, I cast all my protective enchantments before creeping through the door.

"Welcome, Moon-and-Star, to this place where destiny is made!" Dagoth Ur's voice echoed around the rocky walls of the cave. The place was a lot smaller than I expected, dimly lit and containing only a few braziers and a large ash statue. I couldn't see any sign of the Heart of Lorkhan.

Dagoth Ur himself stood at the end of the cavern. He appeared much as he had in my dreams: tall and thin, with grey, shrivelled-looking skin stretched over protruding bones, his face covered by a golden mask. Like all the Ash Vampires he had freakishly long hands and fingers, with sharp, claw-like nails.

"Now that you have come to me here, there can be but one result," he continued. "Many times I have considered offering to accept your oath of service."

"Hang on." I narrowed my eyes. "Who said anything about an oath of service?"

"You might try to buy my trust by giving me Wraithguard, Keening, and Sunder. I thought we might once again be friends... comrades... brothers in arms."

Ah, here it was: the 'join me and we will rule the world together' speech. "Nope," I said. "Sorry. Not going to happen."

"But I have won this place and power by right of conquest," he went on, as if I hadn't spoken. "I will not risk it to cunning and deceit. If you are my enemy, I cannot trust you – and even if you are not my enemy, I cannot let you live."

I began to draw my sword, but he held up a hand. "I have final questions I would ask you, if you would answer."

Actually, maybe it would be a good thing to keep him talking while I figured out what to do. "Go on then," I said with a sigh.

"My first question is: Are you really Nerevar reborn?"

"Well, Azura seems to think so," I said. "And I guess if anyone ought to know, it's her. But if you don't trust her, your guess is as good as mine."

He sighed. "What a world... Perhaps we shall never know. But as I have sympathy for you, and the melancholy fate of all mortals, I shall weep for your death."

"Gee, thanks," I said sarcastically. "Anything else?"

"My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?"

Obviously I couldn't tell him what I was _actually_ planning, so I just smiled mysteriously. "Maybe I have my own plans for the Heart."

"Well, perhaps there may be surprises in store for me yet." He shrugged. "No matter. My final question is: if I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?"

"Are you kidding me?" I shook my head in disbelief. "I'm not a _complete_ idiot. I don't want to join you, and even if I did, there's no way I'd hand over the tools. Why the hell should I trust you?"

"Thank you for your forthright response," he said, sounding a little amused. "And now, if you have any questions, ask them… otherwise, you are the challenger. I await your first blow."

I paused. There were all sorts of things I could have asked him, of course, but the truth was that I really didn't care. I didn't want to hear his excuses, or his justifications, or his promises of how great Morrowind would be when everyone was an Ash Zombie or a walking corpse. What was the point, when I was just going to have to kill him anyway?

"Nah," I said at last. "Not really. Let's just get on with this, shall we?"

"As you wish." He stood back, waiting for me to attack, as he had promised.

Well, I still didn't really have a plan, but there was nothing for it. I hurled myself through the air towards him, thrusting my glass longsword between his ribs. It didn't even break the skin.

Dagoth Ur laughed and swatted at me with one of those claw-like hands, and I only just managed to dodge the blow. Gritting my teeth, I tried again, and once again he just shrugged off the blow as if it were a flea-bite. The same thing happened several more times – and then suddenly, without warning, he vanished.

Glancing around, I saw a second door set deep into the rock wall. Could that be the way to the Heart?

Something was glittering on the floor just in front of the door. I moved closer and realised that it was a House Dagoth ring, inset with gems and enchanted with some very powerful resistances. Cautiously I slipped it onto my finger and cast the enchantment, then opened the door – and found myself standing on a narrow platform, half-way up the wall of a vast natural cavern. The place was _huge_.

Dagoth Ur was standing on the edge of the platform, only a few feet away. When he saw the expression on my face, he threw back his head and laughed.

"What a fool you are. I'm a god. How can you kill a god?" He shook his head. "What a grand and intoxicating innocence. How could you be so naive?"

I was barely listening. Beyond the platform on which we both stood was a massive stone head the size of a house, crowned with a headdress of Dwemer steel. Looking more closely I saw that it was attached to an equally enormous body, fifty feet high, rising out of a huge lava pit at the bottom of a cavern. The sheer scale of the thing was almost beyond belief.

"_Numidium_," I whispered, remembering the story of the Brass God. I'd always thought it was just a legend, but now…

I almost forgot Dagoth Ur was there until I heard his soft, mocking laughter. "Admiring my handiwork, 'Nerevarine'? Akulakhan will be the champion of my armies, liberating first Vvardenfell, then Morrowind and then, perhaps the rest of Tamriel. It will serve as a sower and cultivator of the divine substance derived from the Heart. Then, perhaps, it will be time to consider whether the Dunmer should cultivate ambitions of empire." He took a step forward. "_Now_ do you see why it is useless to oppose me? There is no escape. No Recall or Intervention can work in this place. Come, lay down your weapons – it is not too late for my mercy."

Screw _that_, I thought, and plunged over the edge of the platform. If this lunatic thought I was going to help him with his plans for a Greater Morrowind, he had another think coming. A spell of some kind whizzed past me as I flew, and I realised I'd have to find the Heart pretty damn quickly.

I floated round behind 'Akulakhan' to shield myself from Dagoth Ur's spells, looking around desperately for anything that looked like a Heart. Where the hell _was_ it? At long last I spotted it, resting on a small platform at the base of Akulakhan's spine. It was pulsating steadily, and seemed to be surrounded by some kind of magical shield.

Quickly recasting the ring's enchantment, I detached Sunder from my belt and dived downwards. At once I was hit by a blast of magicka – it must have been a curse of some kind – and I felt my strength and energy begin to leech away. My pack slipped off my shoulders, and I could only watch in horror as all my supplies – food, potions, Divine and Almsivi Intervention amulets – disappeared into the lava.

There was no time to lose; I needed to get this done quickly before Ur could hit me with any more spells. As soon as I got within range I swung Sunder at the Heart with all my strength, but too late – a massive bolt of fire magicka exploded around me, and for a few horrible moments it was like being caught in a furnace. If it hadn't been for the magical resistances, I'd probably have been killed outright.

I grabbed my last healing potion and gulped it down, then seized up Keening and slashed it several times across the Heart. High above me, Dagoth Ur let out a cry of rage and horror.

"What are you doing? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Suddenly he was standing right behind me. "Fool! Stop!"

I ignored him and continued to hack away at the Heart. With a terrible roar he lunged forward, sinking his long, sharp claws into my shoulder. The inch-long fingernails tore through the thick metal of my cuirass as if it were made of butter, sinking deep into my flesh.

I screamed in pain and tried to shake him off, but he only dug in deeper. Frantically I jabbed at the Heart with Keening, willing it to die. All at once it seemed to deflate, shrivelling up like a punctured balloon before vanishing completely.

A howl of anguish echoed around the cavern as Dagoth Ur saw the source of his powers vanish. He tore his hand away from my shoulder, ripping my flesh, and stumbled back onto the narrow wooden bridge leading away from the platform. I turned round to see him standing with one hand raised, ready to cast another of those terrible spells.

There was no time even to think. I dropped Keening and lunged forward, barrelling into Dagoth Ur and knocking him off balance. With a final, despairing wail, he tumbled over the side of the bridge and into the bubbling lava pool below. The last thing I saw was his clawed, bloody hand grasping wildly towards the ceiling as he sank beneath the surface.

All of a sudden there was a loud rumbling sound, and the entire cavern began to shake. What the hell was this, an earthquake? Vivec hadn't said anything about earthquakes!

The platform where I'd entered the room was twenty feet above me. I looked around frantically, wondering how to get back up there, until I suddenly realised I could still fly. I grabbed Keening and Sunder and launched myself upwards, not a moment too soon – the second my feet touched the upper platform, the rumbling increased and I saw Akulakhan's massive body crack and fall to pieces. If I'd stayed on the lower platform I'd have been crushed by the falling rocks.

I found the crank to open the door on a nearby Dwemer pipe, and pulled it. The stone covering slid back and I pushed through the door into Dagoth Ur's cavern, trembling like a leaf. Only moments after the door closed behind me, I realised that the Levitation spell had worn off.

As my eyes adjusted to the faint light, I wondered vaguely why I felt so weak. I put a hand to the back of my neck where Dagoth's finger had dug into it, and found it soaked in blood. Dimly I realised that I was quite badly injured. When the shock and excitement of battle had worn off, it was going to hurt like hell.

I tried to cast a healing spell, but my mouth was so dry that I choked on the words. The spell fizzled out miserably, leaving me without any magicka for a second attempt.

Taking a few shaky steps forward, I realised that there was someone else there in the cavern with me. A Dunmer woman in a light-blue gown stood by the entrance to the cavern, her arms outstretched as if to welcome me. She was beautiful, shimmering faintly in the torchlight, and somehow I knew she was Azura. I sank to my knees, too exhausted to do anything else.

"_You no longer bear the burden of prophecy._" She took a step forward, smiling down at me. "_You have achieved your destiny. You are free. The doomed Dwemer's folly, Lord Dagoth's temptation, the Tribunal's seduction, the god's heart freed, the prophecy fulfilled. All fates sealed and sins redeemed. If you have pity, mourn the loss – but let the weeping cease._"

As she spoke, the cavern seemed to fade and in its place I saw a vision of Red Mountain. The ash-storms died down, the Ghostfence faded away, and the sun emerged from behind white, wispy clouds. The sky was clear and blue above Ghostgate. It was like a beautiful dream.

"_The Blight is gone, and the sun's golden honey gilds the land._" The vision faded, and I was back in the cavern with Azura."_Hail saviour, Hortator, and Nerevarine. Your people look to you for protection. Monster and villains great and small still threaten the people of Vvardenfell; enemies and evils abound, yet indomitable will might rid Morrowind of all its ills."_

"I'll try," I said weakly. "But, uh… maybe if you could see your way to…"

Azura nodded."_For you, our thanks and blessings; our gift and token given. Come, take this thing from the hand of God._"

She stretched out her hands, and I saw that they held a small, beautiful ring. As I got to my feet I saw her slowly fade away, leaving only the ring floating in the air where she had stood. As my hand closed around it, I felt my strength flood back as Dagoth Ur's curse was lifted.

Unfortunately the ring hadn't actually done anything to _heal_ me. I was still bleeding fairly heavily, and the pain from my wounds was getting worse every minute. If I didn't find a way to heal myself soon I would probably go into shock. Sighing, I plodded over to the door and began to make my way out of the building.

As I struggled on through the endless corridors, I could feel my breathing grow shallow and my strength ebb away with every step. I still didn't have enough magicka to cast another healing spell, and there was no way I'd ever manage an Intervention spell in this state. My only hope was to get back to Ghostgate, but that was impossible – even if I managed to fend off the ash-creatures along the way, it was still a walk of several miles. I'd never make it.

At long last I reached the outer door and staggered into the open air, blinking in the early-morning sunlight. It was a beautiful day, without a trace of ash or blight. A new dawn. And I was going to die.

I sank to the ground, wincing at the intense heat rising up from the steaming lava pit. If I had to go, I thought, at least I could take Kagnerac's tools down with me. Crawling to the cliff edge, I dropped them over one by one – first Sunder, then Keening, and finally Wraithguard – and watched them slowly sink into the lava. Then I lay back, feeling tears beginning to prick my eyes.

I'd never get to say goodbye. That was what hurt the most. _Uncle and Aunt… Athyn… Varvur… I'm sorry._

Something was digging uncomfortably into my left thigh. Gods, couldn't I even _die_ in peace? Wincing with every movement, I fumbled around in my pocket and drew out the 'lucky coin' that Wulf, the old Legion veteran, had given to me.

Much luck it had brought me, I thought sourly. Maybe I should toss it into the lava and make a wish? Sighing, I rubbed it idly between my fingers – and it abruptly vanished.

Hang on a second…

A vision of Daedric writing flashed through my mind, and I found myself mouthing the words without knowing what they meant. Suddenly I knew that something had changed. I didn't feel any stronger or healthier, but somehow, for a few precious seconds, I felt that I had hope. If I acted now, I might just have a chance – but I'd have to be quick.

_Think, Ada, think..._ With any luck, I might _just_ have enough magicka left to cast Almsivi Intervention. Clearing my mind as far as possible, I mumbled a prayer to any gods that might be listening, then gritted my teeth and poured every last ounce of energy and concentration into casting the spell.

In the fraction of a second that followed, which felt like an hour, I was sure I had failed. Then I heard the familiar 'sucking' sound, and moments later I found myself in the courtyard of the Temple in Ald'ruhn.

There was no one else around. Feeling strangely light-headed, I dragged myself to my feet, stumbled over to the door and banged on it as hard as I could. It swung open suddenly and I practically fell through the doorway, right in front of the priest Tuls Valen. His eyes widened in shock when he saw me and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Can't talk now. Heal _first_." I brushed past him and limped into the inner chamber, where healing shrines to various saints were arranged around the central ashpit, and collapsed to my knees in front of a random shrine. I could use these for free, right? "Oh, Saint Roris – " I began, and promptly threw up all over the collection plate.

"Oops," I said faintly, just before everything went black.


	40. Chapter 40: The Morning After

**Chapter 40: The Morning After**

I'm not sure how long I lay there in the dimly-lit chamber, tossing and turning, drifting in and out of consciousness. At one point someone held a drink of some kind to my lips, and in my confused state I got the idea that they were trying to poison me. I struggled and swore, but they held me down firmly and forced me to swallow the foul-tasting liquid. I don't remember anything else after that.

When I came to, the first thing I saw was a Temple healer standing over me. I tried to sit up but she laid a hand on my chest to stop me. "No, _sera_. Don't try to get up. You have been very ill."

The room swam into focus, and I saw that it was filled with people – Archcanon Saryoni, Duke Dren, the Sarethis, all the Redoran councillors, Mehra Milo, Tuls Valen, and the Redoran priest Lloros Sarano. It was like a mass reunion of everyone I'd ever met. All I needed now were Caius Cosades and those naked Nord guys and I'd have the full set.

"Why are there so many people here?" I murmured, still a bit confused.

"They are here to keep vigil." That was Lloros Sarano. "For the past three days you have hung between life and death."

Ah yes. Things were slowly starting to come back to me – Dagoth Ur, the volcano, Azura…

"Sorry for vomiting all over your shrine," I mumbled to Tuls Valen.

He smiled a little thinly. "No matter."

My head itched. I put a hand up to rub it, and realised to my horror that half my hair was gone – singed off by Dagoth Ur's fireball spell, presumably – and the rest was a ragged mess. My poor, _poor_ hair. I'd just have to go around in a big hat or something until it grew back.

"So," I said faintly. "Is it really over? I mean… the prophecies and everything?"

The Archcanon nodded. "It is over. The Sixth House has fallen, the Blight is gone… and Saint Nerevar walks among us."

Who? Oh yes… that's right. Me.

"I think I'd like to go back to sleep now," I said, and closed my eyes.

When I woke up again a few hours later, everyone was gone apart from Athyn and Varvur. I felt a lot less woozy this time – I must have been magically sedated to stop me moving around too much. That would explain that disgusting potion they'd made me drink.

As soon as Varvur saw I'd woken up he said something urgently in Dunmeris to his father, who turned to me with a smile. "Ah, you're awake. It's good to have you back with us, Councillor Ventura."

'Councillor'? I sat bolt upright. "My _stronghold_! Is it finished yet?"

"Yes, yes, _sera_," he said soothingly, patting my hand. "You have a wonderful stronghold."

At that moment the healer came back in carrying a bowl and a washcloth. I suddenly realised that I was wearing nothing but a loose robe, which left very little to the imagination. I would have been embarrassed, but I guessed the others had already seen all there was to see anyway. (Well, Varvur definitely had.)

I turned back to Athyn. "So… I'm a Councillor now?"

"Yes, indeed. In fact, there are matters we need to discuss – but that can wait until you are feeling better. For now, you need to rest."

The healer began to dab at my neck with the cloth, and I sighed. "So I've really been at death's door these last few days?"

Athyn nodded. "You lost a lot of blood. And I'm told that when you first arrived, you were covered in burns and other injuries. Poor Tuls almost mistook you for a corprus beast."

"You were having such strange dreams," Varvur broke in. "Raving about giant statues and people trying to poison you. And then, after they gave you the potion, you just lay there so white and still. We thought – we thought that – " His voice cracked slightly, and Athyn laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I don't understand," I said feebly. "Couldn't… couldn't someone just cast a healing spell?"

The healer shook her head. "Whatever made those wounds, they could not be healed by magic. We managed to stop the bleeding, but they had to be stitched." She paused. "I'm afraid you will have scars, _sera_."

I glanced down at my chest, where Dagoth Ur had torn through my armour with his thumb. A long, jagged wound ran from the base of my neck to my left armpit, just above my heart. From the feel of it, there were more of them on my shoulder and the back of my neck. No more low-cut gowns for me.

"I'll live, I guess," I mumbled. I could see the pity and compassion in Varvur's face, and somehow that hurt more than anything else.

At that moment I heard a strange rumbling sound from somewhere outside the building. Tuls Valen came into the room, and he and the others had a quick conversation in their own language which I couldn't be bothered to try and follow. Eventually he detached himself from the group and turned towards me.

"The people of Vvardenfell are gathered outside, _muthsera_," he told me. "They want to see you in person, to see that you have survived. Do you feel strong enough to come outside, for a few minutes, and appear before them?

With Varvur's help, I clambered out of the bed – wincing at the pain in my shoulder – and took a few experimental steps. "I guess," I said at last. "As long as it's only a few minutes."

The healer found me a warm, clean robe and some shoes, cast a 'Fortify Fatigue' spell on me, and led me outside into the courtyard. When I saw the massive crowd waiting for me there, I nearly fainted. There were hundreds of people, _thousands_ of people – so many that I could almost believe the entire island had turned out to greet me. Had they all been camping out there for the past three days?

As soon as I stepped through the archway leading out of the courtyard, a shout went up. "She is here! All hail Ada Ventura, the Incarnate! Nerevar reborn!"

The roar of cheers almost knocked me backwards. I cast a helpless glance round at the priests and soldiers standing around me, and saw that they were looking at me expectantly. Oh gods, were they expecting me to make a _speech_? Help!

I gave a little wave, and the cheers grew even louder. "I, ah – " I tried to call out, but my voice sounded hopelessly feeble against the roar of the crowd.

"SILENCE! She speaks!" The noise died down almost instantly, leaving an equally deafening silence. Oh no, this was even _worse_!

I cleared my throat. "Ladies and gentlemen," I began, not knowing how else to start. "Thank you all so much for coming here today. I – I just wanted to say how grateful I am to everyone who's helped me in my quest to defeat Dagoth Ur. I couldn't have done it without you."

Gah, I sounded like I was accepting a scholarship prize or something. I found myself wishing I had Dagoth Ur's gift for fine speeches.

"The threat of Red Mountain is gone," I continued. "But we must all work together to defeat the other evils that still threaten Morrowind. Go forth and… heal this land," I went on, stealing blatantly from Azura. "And go with my blessing."

Okay, let's face it: on a scale of 'inspiring speeches' from one to ten, that would be lucky to rate a three. Everyone applauded loudly, of course, but frankly I could probably have stood there reciting nursery rhymes and have got the same response. Suddenly I began to feel very tired again, and a little dizzy.

Athyn and Varvur stepped forward and caught me as my knees started to wobble. Together they helped me back into the Temple, where the healer cast some restoration spells and put me back to bed. I ate some broth – which was all I could manage for the moment – and settled down gratefully for another long sleep.

The next day, Athyn Sarethi came to see me alone. I wasn't really in the mood to talk politics, but I tried to look enthusiastic when he told me he had some important business to discuss.

"Ada." He sat down beside the bed. "As I told you yesterday, the Council has agreed to grant you the rank of Councillor. Is this acceptable to you?"

"I guess so." I wasn't sure what else to say. "Is there anything I should… say, or do?"

"Not for the moment. Your position will be formally confirmed at the next Council meeting." He paused. "But there is another matter that must be settled at the same time: that of choosing a new Archmaster."

Ah, so _that_ was what this was about. "You have my vote, Athyn," I said, rather surprised that he felt the need to ask me.

"No, my friend. I've told you before that I don't wish to be Archmaster."

"Who else, then? Not Garisa Llethri," I begged, struck by a sudden horrible thought. "Please. It's not that I _dislike_ him exactly, but – "

"No, I wasn't thinking of Garisa." He took a deep breath. "Ada, you are a Councillor, and you are our Hortator. The Council is in agreement that the title of Archmaster should go to you."

I'm not exaggerating when I say that I nearly fainted. I was still weak and exhausted from the battle with Dagoth Ur, and I _really_ wasn't prepared for this. "Archmaster?" I wheezed. "_Me_?"

"Yes, you." He took my hand in his. "I'm quite serious, _muthsera_. Venim was a strong Archmaster, but in some ways I believe you would make a better one. You temper your strength with mercy."

"But… but…" I could hardly speak. "You _can't_ be serious! I don't know how, and… oh, for crying out loud, Athyn – you know what I'm like. I'd never make a good politician. I'd probably start a war just by losing my temper with the wrong person!"

"You exaggerate, Ada," he said gently. "No one is perfect, but you have done more for House Redoran than you think. You've won us several important victories against the Hlaalu and Telvanni. People are starting to speak of our House with respect once more. And as for diplomacy, well… you could hardly be worse than Venim in that regard."

"I can't even make speeches! You saw that yesterday!"

He shrugged. "Neither could I at your age. That is something that can be taught."

"But …" I looked at him helplessly. "Athyn, you do _know_ that I'm a Blade, right?"

Athyn sighed. "My friend, I am an _Agent_ of House Redoran. Did you think I would agree to sponsor you without making enquiries into your background? I have known of your Imperial connections for quite some time now."

"Then – you mean you…" That was when it hit me. "_You_ were the one who had me followed!"

"I did. I also made various other enquiries, which I doubt you have heard about." He shook his head. "I hope you will forgive me, but you understand that I must protect my House."

Suddenly I began to feel like an idiot. Athyn had been a Redoran politician for over 300 years – had I really imagined that he would be naive enough to take everything I said on trust? Yes, I'd done exactly that. What an arrogant little cow I was.

"So how much do you actually know?" I said at last.

"Enough. Not everything, perhaps – but I have learned enough to convince me that you are sincere, whatever your connections may be." He paused. "I haven't said anything to the other Councillors, however, and I suggest you don't either. As I said before, they may not be quite so… understanding."

I could hardly believe my ears. "And you still want me to be head of your House?"

"Indeed. I think you will make a good Archmaster, Ada – in time, of course. And I will always be here to advise you, should you need it."

I stared at him, suspicion slowly dawning on me. This had all worked out very conveniently for him, I thought – he'd wanted rid of Venim, but didn't want to be Archmaster himself. Could it – could it be that he'd _planned_ this all along?

I was starting to realise just how much I'd underestimated Athyn. He might be gentle, mild-mannered and almost painfully honourable, but he certainly wasn't stupid. It honestly hadn't occurred to me till now that he might have had reasons of his own for promoting me through the Redoran ranks so quickly. More fool me, I guess.

"I'm not going to be a puppet, Athyn," I told him, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm happy to take advice from you, but if I'm going to be Archmaster, I'll make my own decisions – and you may not like them. Just so you know."

"Of course," he said gravely. "I would expect nothing less."

"Well. Okay then." There was a pause. "So… I'm Archmaster now? Just like that?

"As I said, you will be formally appointed at the next Council meeting."

"And am I still Hortator? Or is there no need for that any more?"

Just for a second, a shadow passed over Athyn's face. "You have done your duty as Hortator," he said slowly, "but… I fear there are still troubles ahead. For this reason, I believe you should keep your title."

He went away after that, leaving me to digest the fact that I was now head of House Redoran, the Imperial Legion, the Fighters' Guild _and_ the Vvardenfell chapter of the Blades. Something was going to have to give, of course, but there'd be time to think about that later.

I wasn't thrilled at the thought of becoming a professional politician, but somehow the thought didn't horrify me nearly as much as it would have done a while back. I never thought I'd say this, but I was just getting _so tired_ of having to fight people. Over the past few months I'd been responsible for countless deaths, and none of them really brought me any satisfaction – not even Dagoth Ur's. After all, in his own mind-bogglingly insane way, he'd believed he was doing the right thing for Morrowind – and from what I'd seen, heard and read of the Tribunal, I could well believe that they actually had murdered Nerevar and left him to take the rap.

Who knew? Perhaps I'd make a good Archmaster. I'd never have thought it, but then I'd never have thought I'd make a good 'legendary heroine of ancient prophecy' either. I could never know until I tried.

... ...

As soon as I was well enough – and had got my hair trimmed into a slightly more fashionable style – I went out to Bal Isra with the Sarethis to visit my stronghold. It wasn't finished yet, of course, but I must say that what they'd done so far was pretty impressive. The main building and the others still under construction had been surrounded with high chitin walls, making the place actually look like a stronghold rather than a house plonked down randomly in the middle of nowhere. There was even a lookout tower.

But it was the inside that really took my breath away. Fully furnished, decorated and populated, it was a Redoran manor to rival any of the ones under Skar. It might not be as big or grand as some of the others, but it was _mine_, and that made it a hundred times better.

"It's beautiful", I whispered, my voice choked. "Just… incredible. Thank you so much for this, Athyn."

He smiled. "In truth, my friend, I had very little to do with it. But it is only fitting that you should have such a reward after all you have done for our House."

"A beautiful home indeed." Domesea was admiring the master bedroom, which was furnished with a large double bed and stocked up with food, drink, potions and weaponry. "Perhaps someday soon you will find someone to share it with, _sera_."

Behind his parents' backs, Varvur and I grasped each other's hands, and shared a secret smile.

... ...

Some time later I went back to the Palace of Vivec to receive my congratulations from the God himself – not that he really was a god any more, of course. He'd lost his divine powers with the destruction of the Heart, just like Dagoth Ur. I wondered if he'd have changed in any way, but he was just floating quietly above his plinth, the same as ever.

"The blight is gone, and we have survived," was the first thing he said to me. "Now we must dedicate ourselves to rebuilding the Temple. And you must dedicate yourself to your responsibilities as Protector of Morrowind."

"What sort of responsibilities, Lord Vivec?"

"There is much to do," he said. "You still have Kagrenac's Tools, potent weapons, and – "

"Ah. About the tools." I coughed slightly. "I, er, kind of threw them into the crater of Red Mountain."

Vivec's brows shot up. "You… destroyed the tools?" He looked as if he could hardly believe it. "Why?"

"To stop anyone else using them, of course." I realised that I was being a bit rude. "Forgive me, my Lord, but… would you really want to take the chance of this happening all over again?"

"You must do as you judge best, of course." There was a long pause. Outwardly he looked as calm as ever, but I got the impression that I'd genuinely shocked him. It was then I realised that he would never have even thought of destroying the tools – any more than Dagoth Ur would.

"And the Temple?" I asked, before the silence got too uncomfortable. "What will you do now that… I mean…"

"We have lost our divine powers," he finished for me. "But not altogether. Some token of the people's faith remains, and we shall dedicate it to rebuilding the Temple. Now that Dagoth Ur is gone, we can turn our energies to the more humble needs of the people. It is good, honest work, and I believe there is redemption in it."

I itched to ask what exactly he wanted 'redemption' for, but there wasn't much point in telling him that I suspected him and Almalexia of killing Nerevar. I didn't have any proof – and besides, he probably knew anyway.

"As for you," he went on, "there are many blighted beasts and horrors that have survived, and must be hunted down and destroyed. There are lesser monsters and villains of all kinds who prey upon the people. There are unsolved mysteries, and legendary treasures undiscovered. I'm sure you will find much to occupy you."

A short while later I was walking back down the steps of the Palace, enjoying the wintry sunlight. It was the 31st of Evening Star. Tomorrow was the festival of New Life, the first day of the new year. It seemed appropriate somehow.

And me? After all that time I'd spent trying to escape Vvardenfell, now I had the chance – and I suddenly found that I didn't want to. Somehow, so slowly and gradually that I hadn't even noticed, I had got used to living in Morrowind. It was a part of me now. I had a home, a family, and… well, who knew?

I would still go back to Cyrodiil some day, of course, and track down my family. But not just yet.

Oh, and one other thing. Remember Wulf, the old Legionnaire whose 'lucky coin' saved my life? The story had spread, and a day or two ago I'd received an urgent message from Lalatia Varian – a priestess at the Imperial Chapels in Ebonheart – asking me to come and see her. She made me tell the whole story, as well as repeating the spell I'd cast on the mountain, and I could see her excitement growing with every moment.

"It's as I thought," she said, when I'd finished my story. "The words of that spell translate as 'Luck of the Emperor' in Daedric. I hesitate to suggest it, but I think you have been visited by an aspect of Tiber Septim. Surely this is a sign of a great doom laid upon you by the gods."

Talos himself? Could it be true? I'm not sure; all I know is that at this point, I've seen way too much to be a skeptic. So if you're ever hanging around Ghostgate and happen to run into an old Legion veteran named Wulf, buy him a drink, and say hi to him from me. You never know when it might bring you luck.

* * *

**Epilogue**

_Vvardenfell's citizens react to the coming of the Nerevarine:_

**Nibani Maesa (Wise Woman of the Urshilaku)**  
"_It is as my dreams have shown me. The Devil is dead, and the Blight is gone. This is a good time to have lived, and to have seen you with my own eyes._"

**Hasphat Antabolis (Fighters' Guild drillmaster, Balmora)**  
"_Now you are a part of history, Ada. It is an honour to know you. And yet, there is still the mystery: does the hero shape the times, or do the times shape the hero? Perhaps you should write a history book, Ada…_"

**Sharn gra-Muzgob (Mages' Guild alchemist, Balmora)**  
"_Very interesting. So you are this Nerevar hero, reborn? Do you remember anything from the life of this Nerevar? Can you think like him? Talk to him? Here, stick out your tongue: can you feel it when I do THIS? I must make a careful examination of you for my... mystical studies._"

**Hassour Zainsubani (Ashlander trader, Ald'ruhn)**  
"_Very interesting. At least part of the Nerevarine Prophecies are true – you, Ada, and your deeds are living proof of this. But… are you also the Nerevarine who will drive the foreigners from the land and redeem the false promises of the Great House Dunmer? Very interesting._"

**Addhiranirr (Thieves' Guild operative, Vivec)**  
"_Just like Addhiranirr said... silly superstition. Maybe you got lucky? Maybe this Dagoth, poor old fellow, and tired, so he falls down? All the stories Addhiranirr hears? Make you sound like some kind of hero or something._"

THE END

* * *

A/N:

Yes, it's finally finished! Many, many thanks to everyone who's been reading and commenting on Ada's adventures - when you're battling the inevitable writer's block to finish a 40-chapter, 230,000-word fanfic, it really does make a difference to know that everyone's enjoying it so much. I'm aware that some loose ends have been (deliberately) left hanging, but rest assured that they'll be tied up in the sequel... THE NEVERAGAINE STRIKES BACK. And finally, of course, I have to thank Bethesda Softworks for creating such a marvellous game as Morrowind.

- Helena L


End file.
